Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    Something was wrong. And that something was wrong with Ned Stark which made it even more concerning. It all started with a letter, a very important letter it would seem. Most of Winterfell had been breaking their fast in the great dining hall. It was an average morning so there was no seating protocol. The inhabitants of winterfell were mixed all amongst themselves, the only designated seats were Catelyn and Ned at the head of the table. There was conversation and smiles all around. Robb and Jon were busy talking about the upcoming sparring session that always happened after their first meal.

“I think if I can just get a little stronger then I will be able to use that new training sword, imagine the reach that would give me!” Jon said excitedly

“But don’t you think it would be more difficult to block using it?” Robb asked. That was their morning ritual, Robb sat in between Theon and Jon so they wouldn’t fight and ended up spending the whole morning talking about sword fighting. It irritated Theon to no end. How many conversations can one have about sword fighting? This morning though Theon didn’t care much at all. He was busy talking to Arya about how to best shoot from a moving horse.

“The key is to anticipate the horse's stride. That’s why it’s so difficult to shoot from a new mount, because you don’t know their stride yet,” Theon explained

“But what if I know my horse’s stride and they trip?” Arya asked. Her mare had tripped with her the other day causing Arya to miss the target by a mile. Luckily her black and white paint pony was sure footed and able to right herself.

“Then there is nothing you can do and the shot is lost,” Theon said matter of factly.

“But what if-“ Arya stopped mid sentence, her eyes locked on the head of the table where her parents were seated. Theon turned to see what she was staring at. Luwin was standing at Ned’s chair looking out of breath, handing him a letter. Theon then understood why Arya had stopped so suddenly. This was not something that happened, ever. Ned took the letter quickly, he knew that Luwin wouldn’t have interrupted if it was not something that was important. Ned took the letter and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the whole page once, then again, then another time. His facial expression grew more stormy with each read through of the letter. Without a word he stood and left the hall with Luwin at his heels. Theon knew, as did the rest of Winterfell, that this was not good at all.

    The rest of that morning was tense, unbearably so. Robb, Jon, and Theon spent most of their day together. They were all close in age so their schooling and training were relatively at the same level. They usually started the day with sword training and archery with Ser Rodrick Cassel, but today they were instructed by a different man. Just one of the lead guards.

“Where is Ser Rodrick?” Robb asked when it became apparent the man was not just running late.

“He is attending to some important matters with lord Stark,” the guard replied.

“What important matters? Is something wrong?,” Robb questioned, becoming more concerned based on what had occurred earlier in the dining hall.

“It is nothing for you to worry about.”

“I am heir to Winterfell, if it involves my house I should be worried.”

“If your father wanted you to be spending your time thinking about the matter he would have told you what the matter is”

“I’m sure he was simply too busy to pull me aside and tell me.”

“But not too busy to call his advisers?”

“He has his advisers with him? If it is that important I’m sure he wants my opinion!”

“I don’t believe that your father wants your ‘opinions’ on war quite yet.” The guard snapped back with an eye roll, obviously running out of energy for the conversation.
With that last sentence Robb fell silent. The word ‘war’ hung in the air like a noose. War? War with who? Certainly not the Iron Islands. Father wouldn’t put me at risk like that. That word sucked the air out of all three boy’s chests. They all remained quiet for the rest of the training session. They did not utter a word once.

    When they were finally dismissed Theon stopped Robb with a hand on the shoulder.

“The guard said war. What war is he speaking of?” Theon questioned.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t heard anything about a war,” Robb said, his expression full of worry.

“Oh come on,” Theon said with a nervous chuckle. “I’m sure you heard whispers of something”

“No, I’ve heard nothing at all.”

“How can the heir of Winterfell not know anything? Now tell us, what is this war all about?”

“I don’t know Theon! I’ve spent the whole morning with you, how would I know anything different from you?” Robb nearly yelled. That caused Theon to take an involuntary step back. Robb had never spoken to him like that before. Theon knew he was worried about what was happening, but he didn’t expect him to react like that.

“Ok, sorry for asking.” Theon said in his best ‘I don’t really care because I’m better than you’ tone. Theon then turned on his heels and walked back into Winterfell. What is wrong with him?!? I know he’s anxious about everything, but still! It’s not like HE’S at risk of losing his head! I just wanted to know if he knew anything that I didn’t. Fine, if he wants to be a grumpy ass hole then let him. It’s not like I care! Even when Theon was thinking that he knew that he really did care. He cared quite a lot about everything.

    It was no surprise then that Luwin was not there to teach their lessons. Old Nan simply told them that they had the afternoon off. As soon as those words left her mouth Theon was already thinking about what he and Robb could do together. But then he remembered that he was mad at Robb, so of course he could not spend his afternoon with him. It still made him burn with jealousy though when he thought that Robb might spend his afternoon with Jon. But much to his relief Robb was already marching to Ned’s meeting room by himself. Jon and Theon were left standing in the hallway looking after him.

“What do you think this is all about?” Jon asked Theon

“Do you really think that you should be worrying about this? It’s not really a matter for bastards to be involved with.” Theon said in the most condescending tone he could manage. Jon’s face darkened, he turned around and started to walk away from Theon.
“I mean really, have you ever heard of a bastard leading an army?” Theon called after him. He always felt a little better if he was able to make someone else feel some of the misery he was feeling.

    Theon decided that he would spend the rest of his day with his horse, Smiler. He had saved up all his money for two years to be able to afford the stallion. Of course Smiler was unbroke when Theon got him. There was no way he would have been able to purchase such a fine animal if it had been fully trained. Theon had only had Smiler for a year so he was still green. But Theon spent most of his free time with the horse, so he had improved immensely. He had started Smiler under saddle himself, refusing any help offered to him. The bond that they shared was obvious to anyone that saw them together. Theon had learned rather quickly after arriving at Winterfell that he loved working with horses. When he was finally able to buy Smiler, that horse was all he could talk about for a month.

“Oh Smiler~!” Theon called when he got to the pasture gate. “Hey Smiley, do you want to go for a gallop?” The black horse always loved to gallop along the top of a nearby ridge and then trot back home alongside the river. Smiler picked his head up from the grass he was eating when he heard Theon’s voice. Of course Smiler only started to walk towards Theon after he had crossed most of the field. Theon gave him a rub on his neck and slipped the halter over his head, fastening it. Smiller didn’t really need a halter, he would follow Theon around without it no problem.

“How are you doing, Smiler?” Theon asked, the pair walking back to the gate, he always had to ask him how his day was going. As he closed the gate behind him and started the walk back to Winterfell he sighed.

“I hope your day is going better than mine. Ned got a letter at breakfast and then left without saying a word to anyone. Right away I was nervous, I mean, why would he act like that if everything was fine? Anyway turns out I was right to be worried, there’s a war going on apparently. We heard it from a guard during training. And when I asked Robb ‘what war?’ He snapped at me! I mean, I don’t really care, you know how that stuff doesn’t really bother me, but still!” Smiler nudged Theon with his head and gave a soft nibble at his hand holding the lead rope. “Ha ha ha, yes I know, you think he overreacted too!” Theon laughed. “Well anyway I don’t think that the war has anything to do with back home… I still have my head after all.” Theon said with a nervous chuckle. I would know if it was father. He would have sent a bird. Or he would have gotten me out of here before news got out of what he was planning. Even as Theon thought that he wasn’t sure if his father would have bothered to do any of that. Just then he saw movement in the leaves to the side of them. Theon had been talking to Smiler as they went from the pasture through a patch of woods back to Winterfell so had not been paying attention to his surroundings. But Smiler wasn’t startled by it at all so whatever it was it had been following them probably since they entered the woods. Theon stopped in his tracks.

“Who’s there!?” He called “come out now!” There was a long pause then a cracking of branches and a head of curly black hair appeared out of the foliage. It was Jon. Theon felt his heart stop for a moment, then send all his blood straight to his face. Jon had heard. Every. Single. Word.

“Theon, I didn’t mea-“ Jon started to say, but he was cut off when Theon’s fist met his gut. Jon doubled over with an ‘omfph’ and stayed hunched on the ground.

“I can’t believe you would spy on me like that!” He yelled. “Ha! What am I saying? I guess that I shouldn’t expect anything different from a bastard!”

“I wasn’t s-“ Jon started to wheeze from the ground looking up at Theon, but he was cut off when the other boy kicked the dirt from the trail into his face. Without another look back Theon turned and ran back towards the field, Smiler trotting after him. By the time Theon got to the gate he felt hot tears running down his face. All the stress, anxiety, and frustration from the morning was amplified by what had just happened. He quickly wiped his face of tears and then mounted Smiler from the pasture fence. He would just ride bareback today. There was no way he was going back to Winterfell with his eyes red and puffy, his nose running, and a quivering lip. Not to mention the fact that if he saw Robb, Jon, or Ned he would probably break down crying all over again. And that would just be the cherry on top of the cake for this day.

     It was dinner time when Theon and Smiler arrived back at Winterfell. They had galloped down a different trail past the horse pastures and into the fields used for the sheep and cattle. Theon only broke to a walk when he saw that Smiler was becoming winded. They found a small creek where Theon got off to wash his face in the cool water and Smiler had a drink. He hoped that the coldness of the water would remove any of the red or puffiness from his face. After spending a while sitting at the creek’s edge he had calmed down enough to start heading back. They had gone farther than he thought, and the bell for dinner was ringing just as he was done with grooming Smiler and was putting him back in his stall for the night.

“Ok, wish me luck Smiler.” He said with a sigh. He started to walk away before he stopped, turned and said:
“Thanks for dealing with all my dumb human stuff today. I love you.” And gave him a kiss on his velvety black nose. Smiler was the only living thing who Theon had said those three words to since he came to Winterfell.

    When he entered the dining hall the mood was already tense. Everyone was seated according to rank so luckily Theon didn’t have to sit by Robb or Jon. Everyone ate in silence and by the end of the meal Theon was about ready to burst. Ever since ‘war’ had left that guard’s mouth he had been constantly stressing over how this war would affect him. When Ned finally stood, Theon's breath caught in his chest. If the hall had been quiet before, it was utterly soundless now.

“This morning I received a letter,” Ned started to announce to his audience. “It told me that Robert Baratheon had discovered that another rebellion was being plotted” Theon felt his heart stop. “Unfortunately the house that was plotting against him is too important to be rid of. The role they play is not easily filled.” Theon was sure that he was about to faint. “So he is unable to kill the head of this house. He has decided on a different route to keep them in line. One that we have used in the past to great effect.” Theon’s vision was starting to get cloudy and his sense of balance was quickly turning upside down. “So that is why he has decided that Roose Bolton, lord of the Dreadfort, will send his heir, Ramsay Snow, to Winterfell to live under the care of the Starks as a ward to assure his loyalty to the crown.” and just like that Theon could breathe again. His heart beat like he had just run around Winterfell ten times over. The ground was firm beneath his feet and all was right with the world “My men and I will ride out to the Dreadfort in a day's time.” Ned continued. “I’m sure that we will have no problem welcoming this new face to Winterfell. I know that he will feel at home with our people, and make friendships to last a lifetime.”

Chapter Text

    It was just getting dark out when Theon and Smiler arrived. One of the brothel workers was out front starting to light the lanterns on the outside of the building. Theon could see that it was a little less busy than usual based on the number of horses at the tie post waiting for their owners return. He tied Smiler to the familiar hitch and gave him a pat on the neck.

    “You just relax here for a little while. Daddy’s going to go get ~lucky~.” He said with a wink and flirtatious grin. Smiler would have rolled his eyes if he could. He knew the drill by now: Theon sleeps with lots of women, bullies Jon, and isn’t bothered by anything anyone says because he is a big strong man just like his father. Unfortunately for his personal image anyone who knew him well knew that wasn’t the case at all.

    Theon sauntered into the building like he owned the place. It was part of the performance he put on to mask his insecurities. No matter how many times he went there, there was always a little piece of him that feared he would be turned away for some reason or another (never mind the fact that brothels didn’t really do that to sane paying customers). That everyone would realize that he was desperate to be liked and even more desperate to be loved. That they would all suddenly see him like the little, shy boy he was back on Pyke, the little boy who he still was on the inside. So he created a mask, one based on the people who he wished would love him but never did. The act he put on was so good that he even fooled himself most of the time. 

    “There’s my girl!” Theon said in a boisterous yet casual tone. Ros and the other girls she was conversing with turned to see who was trying to get their attention. They weren’t surprised to see him at all, he did come by around every four days.

    “Ladies, how’s the night so far?” He said to the group. “Not much action? I could fix that.” He ended his claim with a lopsided grin and wink. The women tittered, Theon Greyjoy was nothing if not entertaining.

    “How are you tonight lord Greyjoy?” Ros asked with her best customer service smile. “We’ve been hearing quite a lot of interesting things from Winterfell. You wouldn’t happen to know what it’s all about would you?” If she was going to put up with this boy she was going to get some fuel for the gossip mill out of it.

    “Oh just some rebellion one of the northern houses tried to raise.” He said with a wave of his hand. “Nothing for you girls to be concerned with though.” He had nudged Ros and another girl to the side so there was enough room for him to sit on the bench in between the two. 

    “Of course, I was just worried that it might mean that you were headed off to war. I don’t know what I would do with myself without you around.” She said in her best I’m-just-a-silly-woman voice, with big concerned eyes, and pouty lips. Ros knew how to flirt, that was for sure.

    “You don’t need to worry about me leaving,” he said smirking, putting a hand on her thigh under the table and giving it a squeeze, “I know how hard it is for you girls to come across someone like me.” That bit was fairly true. Theon was great in bed, and had no shortness of funds either. “You all know house Bolton, right?” They all nodded, “Well it appears that he was planning on revolting against the crown. Something about not listening to his council. Some way or another the king found out about it, and went to kill him.” He drew his pointer finger across his throat for emphasis. “But then he realized that there was no way he would be able to replace the house all together, and if he gave another house the responsibilities of Bolton they would have too much power. So, he decided to take his heir as hostage and send him to Winterfell to live under the Starks.” He finished with a noncommittal shrug. 

    “So the same that they did with you?” One of the girls asked. The table fell silent. Ros could have slapped the girl. She was new, had just arrived from her family’s farm about two weeks ago, and didn’t know about the number one rule with Theon Greyjoy; How he came to be at Winterfell was something never discussed in his presence. Ever. Theon stared at her with a look of upset shock, but that was quickly covered up by a mask of anger.

    “No, it isn’t. What happened to me was completely different.” He snapped at her. He fought to keep the color from rising to his cheeks, he was unsuccessful.

    “But I thought tha-“ she started to respond and was quickly cut off. This girl really couldn’t take a hint, could she?

    “Well whatever you thought was wrong. Of course I wouldn’t expect a woman to know anything about politics. It’s all far too complicated for you.” He seethed at her. With that he grabbed Ros’s hand, got up from the table and started up the stairs to the rooms with her in tow. “Come on Ros, time to earn your keep.” 

    The first time Theon had come to the brothel he was mortified. He wore his cloak with the biggest hood, made sure to cover all his sigils, donned a hat, and styled his hair in a completely different way. When he was younger he thought that a man and woman (or man and man as later interests would prove) would only ever sleep together because they were in love. That belief had been shattered by his older brother Rodrick. He had seen Rodrick kissing one of the kitchen girls, and a few days later had seen him doing the same with a different one. He asked Rodrick why: “I thought you were in love with that other girl?” After that his brother had been merciless in teasing him about it for months. The teasing only stopped because Rodrick left to fight in the rebellion, he never did make it back. That one lesson was enough to teach Theon that sex was not something sacred. When he finally lost his virginity at 16 (his first trip to the brothel) he found one of his new favorite pastimes. 

    Theon prided himself on his sexual conquest. Only a “real” man would fuck a different girl every night for two weeks straight like he did. It was this way that he had developed his skills in bed. He could make toes curl, eyes cross, girls scream, and wives moan. He had experience and was proud of it. Of course he had no experience with other men. The closest he ever got was in his dreams, where he would wake up with a wet spot on his sheets and a heart full of shame. “Real men” didn’t have thoughts like that, so he threw himself into women even more, just to prove he was a “real man”. He wore his sexuality like a shield… his sexuality regarding women that is. 

    When Theon shut the door behind them he was more forceful than he needed to be. It raddled in its frame, and Ros knew that the whole brothel had heard it. They were probably all wondering who was throwing a fit. 

    Theon left her by the door and sat down on the large bed in the center of the room in a huff. He started to take off his boots, throwing them towards the door like an angry child. Ros rolled her eyes. The day she stopped have to deal with men and their temper tantrums was the day she decided to only fuck women. She slid up to the side of the bed and perched next to him, he didn’t look up from unlacing his doublet. She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. This got him to stop for a moment as he leaned into the touch.

    “Theon…she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” She said quietly, he closed his eyes and nodded, all the while still appreciating the kind hand. “…why don’t you let me make up for her lack of knowledge.” She whispered, setting her other hand on his thigh, nudging the side of his cock through his breeches. Theon gave an annoyed sigh, but let her continue. She pushed him back on the bed so he was sitting with his back up against the headboard and set to work.

    She started to kiss and suck behind his ear. At the same time she finished removing his doublet, and then worked her hands up under his shift. Theon sat still and closed his eyes. He tipped his head back and to the side to allow her more access. When he felt her hand graze over his nipples he gasped. Ros smirked to herself, she thought it was adorable that he was so sensitive there, just like a maid. Of course she would never tell Theon that, she didn’t even want to think about how he would react to her comparing him to a maid. 

    She stopped lapping at his neck to quickly slip his shift over his head and discard it to the floor. She deftly unlaced his breeches then grabbed the waist and began pulling it down his legs. He lifted his ass and shimmied his hips side to side to help her. Usually he was much more active when they fucked but he was still irritated with what that whore had said downstairs and he had to let Ros know that somehow. That girl has not one clue as to what she is talking about. Ramsay’s position and mine are completely different. Of course he couldn’t say how they were different, but they were! All a whore is good for is spreading her legs and collecting gossip. Theon had an idea just then as Ros was finishing removing his clothing and starting on her own. If they already heard about what happened a night ago, I wonder if they know anything about this new ward.

    “Ros.” He said, causing her to pause in her stripping. “I know how you whores like to talk.” Ros had to stop herself from rolling her eyes…again. “Have you all heard anything about this new ward coming to winterfell? Ramsay Snow, a bastard just like Jon.” He finished with a smirk.

    “Nothing much unfortunately, my lord. He does live quite far away.” She replied.

    “You must know something about him, a rumor or something?” And it’s just us whores that like to talk? Ros thought to herself.

    “The few whispers that I have heard are of things that are true for most people. He has hounds and enjoys hunting. I’m sure that he also occasionally finds a kitchen maid to help pass his time.” She really had heard very little about this young lord. Almost suspiciously so, as if quite a few things were being kept quiet.

    “Well let me know if you do find anything interesting.” He said with a sigh, “now let’s pass some time ourselves.”

    Ros had fucked her fair share of men, and women. But she still found time to appreciate the finer human body’s when she encountered them. She was doing just that as she was stroking Theon’s cock to fullness. He had a slight tan (a rarity among the northern population) all year round as it was his natural tone. His sandy blonde almost brunette hair was thick and wavy. All of his body hair was that same color (even at the base of his cock) which she found very cute. His chest was lightly dusted with it as was his pubic area. He had never been very hairy, much to his disappointment, “real men” had thick hair everywhere (at least the ones in his dreams did). Under that light hair was flexible yet strong muscle, Ros was always impressed by the way he could contort and bend himself. He was lean, also something he was not happy about, and slender. ‘A true swimmer’s body’ as his mother told him when he was young and questioning why he was smaller than most of the other kids his age. His tan skin, light hair, and sinewy body brought out some of his best features, in Ros’s opinion at least. His nipples were a light, soft pink and slightly larger than average. When he got aroused or Ros played with them they would turn a much darker pink boarding on a purple or red color. The same was true for his cock. Ros was pleasantly surprised when she had first seen it, not the largest she had been around but a size that was nothing to sneer at. Big enough that he could make it very good or hurt like hell if he didn’t wait for her to get prepped. She was sure that his hole would have the same color scheme, but the one time she had ventured down there with her fingers Theon had stopped her right away saying he was “a man, and real men don’t take it up the ass”. He did however not have a problem with his nipples being paid special attention to. So since their first night together she had tweaked them, sucked them, licked them, pinched them, flicked them, and done anything else that she could think of to them. The expressions he made when she did this were always adorable, and the way his eyes would squeeze shut then peek back open silently asking for more always had her dom side flaring. That was another thing, his eyes. Pools of deep sea water, not quite green and not quite blue but somewhere in between. For all his attempts at concealing how he feels with his ill timed laughter and smiles, his eyes always told what was truly going on inside his head. Over all he was a handsome youth, who stood out from the pale, strong stock of the north. 

    “Thinking of something else?” Theon said, pausing in his upward thrusting. “Your mind isn’t where it should be.” He punctuated this statement with a particularly strong shove into her. She gasped, his cock having hit a good spot. She held her position and ground down on that area, chasing her orgaism. If there was one customer she could cum with it was Theon.

    “No my Lord. Just think-ing about how lucky I am to be able fuck such a handsome m-man.” She breathed. Under her Theon resumed his movement, a self satisfied smirk on his face. That smirk quickly turned into a moan as Ros pinched then rolled his nipples. As she continued to do this his thrusting picked up speed. He watched her ride him with wrapped attention. His hands gripped her hips harder as he tipped his head back, lost in the feeling. 

    Ros felt his rhythm stutter, and she knew he was close. With one particularly strong pinch and roll to his chest, he came. 

    “R-Ros, I-I’m cummi- uhh! …fuck.” he groaned out. On top of him Ros had to conceal her irritation. If he had held out just a little longer then she would have been able to cum herself. Oh well, it wasn’t the first time she had been left in the lurch. She swiftly dismounted him and set about washing his spend from the inside of her thighs with the wash bowl and rag in the corner of the room. Certainly not his best performance, but she could tell the past few days had taken a toll on him.

    He lay on the bed watching her for a moment, then started to gather his clothes and put them back on. When he was finished he took her pay from his coin bag and left it on the bed. This was not their usual routine but he didn’t feel like staying and cuddling for a while after like usual. Although he was sure the feeling of her stroking through his hair and lightly rubbing at his arm would make him feel much better. Without a word from either of them he left the room, exited the brothel, mounted Smiler, and headed back to Winterfell and a cold, lonely bed.

Chapter Text

    Theon set down Smiler’s grooming basket. He took a moment to appreciate his surroundings. It was a particularly sunny, and warm day (for the north that is). The meadow he and Smiler had just arrived in was a favorite spot of his. It was secluded and far enough away that a trip to it made for a perfect hack out. There was shade and plenty of grass for Smiler to eat as Theon groomed him. Theon had already untacked Smiler and set his saddle and bridle on a nearby fallen log. Smiler currently had on just a halter. Theon knew that he wouldn’t go anywhere, but ever since that one time he made sure he always had some piece of tack on him. Smiler had been spooked by a deer and ran off, Theon had tried to stop him but with nothing for him to grab that was attached to Smiler it was useless. Theon chased after him but quickly lost sight of the black horse. Theon had spent hours running through the woods calling for him. When he finally wandered back to Winterfell, eyes still red and puffy from crying, he found that Smiler had simply ran back home.

    He shook that memory from his head and set about gathering his supplies. A jar of his homemade detangler, some blue yarn he had snagged from Sansa, a mane and tail brush, and a small pair of hand shears.

    “Ok Smiler, are you ready to look like a proper lord’s horse? Of course you already do… but let’s get that hair out of your eyes!” Theon said. He started with detangling Smiler's mane. He opened the jar and scooped some of the contents up with his fingers then began working it into the hair.

    “A raven arrived from the Dreadfort this morning, you know, the home of that new ward? Well it was from Ned saying that they should be arriving by tomorrow night.” Theon had learned this all from Robb earlier that day. “I wonder what this Ramsay boy will be like. Well he is a bastard so obviously he won’t be the most noble or refined person. But he is the heir to the Dreadfort, so maybe he will be slightly more worth our time than Jon.” His fingers worked deftly, smoothing the detangler through Smiler’s locks. Whenever a knot or snag was found he massaged the mixture into it and unraveled it. He had added some oil of herbs and flowers to the concoction to help with hair growth, not to mention that they smelled nice.

   “Oh! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this Smiler! You know that empty room in between Jon’s room and mine? That’s where they are going to put the new ward! I think that Ned is hoping that I will be able to show the bastards how to act properly.” Even as he said this he knew that it was because he held the same importance that Jon and Ramsay did. His ego refused to let him acknowledge that fact out loud. 

    “I hope he doesn’t mind some late night ~noise~” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave a wolfish grin. Truth be told he hadn’t fucked anyone since Ros a little more than a week ago. All this thinking about a new ward had his mind full of what he could be like. Each different version he could come up with of this ward had appeared in his dreams. Theon was much too confused about this to even think of sex at all. Of course Smiler knew all this, Theon had come to visit him in his stall each night those dreams occurred and told him all about it. Smiler hadn’t had an uninterrupted night in a week.

    “Ok, let’s get this brushed out.” He bent down and retrieved Smiler’s brush. It was one of the most expensive grooming tools Theon had bought. It was made of a dark brown wood that had red undertones when looked at in the sunlight. The bristles were made of strong black boar hairs. The most distinguishing feature of the tool were the intricate waves carved on the back of the brush head and handle. Theon had spotted it on the cart of a merchant that had come to Winterfell. He immediately bought it without a second thought. When Robb asked him why he had spent so much on a brush when he already had a nice one for himself, Theon had said: 

    “Oh, yeah… it’s for a certain lady friend of mine.” Robb had laughed and slapped him on the back as Jon just rolled his eyes. There was no way Theon was going to tell them that he bought it because it looked almost exactly like the brush his mother had. The one she would use to brush his hair as she would ask him about his day and tell him she loved him. He had tried for days to brush his own hair with it, but each time he went to his chest would tighten up, a lump would form in his throat, and soon he would feel hot tears run down his face. He found that he could, however, use it for Smiler without feeling like a piece of his heart was breaking.

    “I know he’s a bastard and all” Theon said as he started brushing out Smiler's mane. “but I think it will be nice to have someone new around. Maybe he has an interest in archery! I know he likes to hunt. It would be nice to have someone to practice with. Of course Robb will always be my closest friend… but he spends sooo much time with Jon.” Smiler knew that this wasn’t really the case. Robb made sure to spend equal amounts of time with each of them. Theon was just high maintenance… and his shit self esteem didn’t help either. 

    “I’m sure Ramsay will be anxious when he first comes here. A new friend would probably help him settle in nicely. He’s not really in the position to be picky, you know?” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, you think he’ll be looking to make friends, right? I’m sure he will… You think he’ll want to be friends with me?” He asked this quietly, as if he were to say it too loudly the mask he wore would suddenly appear and bite him. Smiler noticed the change in his demeanor and lifted his head from the grass to give a soft blow of air to his face. Theon looked at him with sad yet hopeful eyes and smiled softly. 

    “…Thanks Smiley.” He kissed his muzzle and hugged his neck. Theon didn’t know what his mental state would be like if he didn’t have Smiler, and to be honest he was scared of what he would do to himself if that happened.

    Theon started Smiler’s braids at the base of his neck. He made sure when starting each braid to keep it loose so the hair wasn’t pulled, causing irritation. After the first section of the braid he tightened the strands up so they made sleek, thick plaits. Once he got about half way down he took a section of blue yarn and began working it into the braid. Once he got to where he wanted it to end he wrapped the yarn around the hair, tied it off and used the hand shears to cut the ends of the tie. 

     “I saw Sansa using this earlier in the week and knew it would look great on you.” Theon paused examining the first finished braid. “I was right!” He broke into a happy smile, one that proudly displayed the gap in his front teeth. 

     Whenever Theon would plait Smilers mane he would choose a different color to tie the ends off with. He was sure that if his brothers, or Drowned God forbid his father, saw him doing this they would take his head themselves. Theon could still remember how angry his father had gotten when he found out Theon’s mother had taught him how to braid. He had stormed out of the room yelling: “No son of mine will spend his time learning women’s work!!” He made Rodrick and Maron take him out sailing later  that day. Of course that was when Rodrick and Maron had “pretended” to drown him. Uncle Euron ended up having to drag him out of the ocean and do chest compressions until Theon coughed up a bucket’s worth of water and replaced it with air. His mother had been furious with everyone involved, except for his uncle obviously. She made it a point that whenever she was around any teasing or bullying of her youngest was unacceptable. That should have, of course, applied to his family at all times, however they did not see it that way. His brothers were the worst offenders. Any opportunity they had to tease him they took. The fact that Theon knew how to braid was just another nail in the coffin of his perceived masculinity. He remembered having his clothes cut to ribbons and his brothers saying he could braid them back together. Despite all this Theon still wanted to learn. And Theon’s mother still wanted to teach him. She had said: “A true man can braid hair and knows it does not have any effect on how much of a man he is.” That had stuck with Theon, and he never felt any shame for the braids he put in Smilers (and sometimes his own) hair. 

     “…Oooookay.” he took a step back to observe his work. “All done! Though we could have finished sooner if you had stopped eating for two seconds while I did your forelock. I guess it's fitting for such a fancy boy to eat as he’s pampered!” He said with an affectionate rub to Smiler's neck. “Alright, let’s head back. Robb and I, and I’m sure Jon unfortunately, are going on a hunt! We are going to catch something for the welcome feast when Ned and the new ward return tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll impress him if I can snag a buck!” 

    It was mid-day when the three boys left Winterfell. They went to the large forest that stood behind the Godswood. It was full of life and almost always had something to be caught. Theon had to admit that for all the horrid weather, the north was not lacking in game. 

    Theon and Robb walked side by side chatting happily. Jon trailed behind the pair by a few paces. Each time he tried to walk abreast to them Theon would start up with the teasing.

    “Are you excited to no longer be the only bastard in Winterfell, Jon?” Theon said the first time he had tried.

    “Oh, stop it, Theon. Leave him alone.” Robb said affectionately. Jon didn’t stay with them long enough to hear if Theon would listen to Robb or not; He fell back a few steps. Theon started talking to Robb again about the last training session they had and how ‘there was no way that move would work on him a second time’. Jon had to refrain from saying that it had already worked on Theon five times in just the last week, and that maybe Theon was just a poor swordsman. 

    The trio had made it to the edge of the woods when Jon attempted to join them again. As soon as Theon noticed Jon with them he turned to him and started again.

    “I really hope that this new ward isn’t nearly as gloomy as you, Jon. I don’t know what will happen to Winterfell if he is. The sun will probably never shine here again.” He said with a frown and slow shake of his head. Robb swatted at the back of Theons head, he dodged it and they both started laughing.

    “Of course I don’t  think it is possible for someone to be as bleak as you. You’re once in a generation Jon!” Theon exclaimed. Jon simply scowled deeper and dropped back again. 

    The third time he went to intermix with them it was just before they found the trail of a deer and had to stay silent.

    “I wonder how much you and this new ward will have in common, Jon. Maybe his mother was a whore just like yours!” Theon said with a wicked grin. The same grin his brothers would wear when they were making his life miserable. Theon had practiced that expression in the mirror when he first arrived at Winterfell. He had thought to himself: Rodrick and Maron never got teased. I’ll just act like them, then no one will pick on me here!

    That grin was quickly wiped off his face when Jon’s fist met his cheek. He stumbled back and fell on his ass in the dirt.

    “Jon!” Robb cried “what are you doing?!” He rushed to Theon’s side and helped him sit up. Jon stood in the center of the trail with his fists closed and chest boiling with anger. He almost swung at Theon again when he saw the shit eating grin that he wore whenever he got a reaction out of someone. Robb helped him to stand up and Theon dusted himself off.

    “Are you both done now?” Robb said standing in between the two, always the moderator. “Theon, stop teasing Jon. We are going to have to make a good impression on Ramsay when he gets here, and that means no getting into fist fights. Now, I don’t know about you two but I want to eat at this feast tomorrow, so let's go find this buck!” Robb finished his speech and started down the deer trail again. Jon cast one last glare at Theon and followed after Robb. Theon stood there a moment, his grin falling as soon as their backs were turned. Robb isn’t going to say anything to him?! He hit me! I make one little joke and he attacks me! I know he’s your brother but I’m your best friend. Theon swallowed the lump in his throat and started after them.

    Theon was not the best at hunting, that was Robb. He had not done any hunting other than fishing before he went to the Starks. That being said he was by far the best archer around. That had been something he had done since Pyke. It was ‘manly’ enough that his father and brothers wouldn’t belittle him for doing it, but not anywhere near as physical as other weaponry. Because of this skill, if Robb or Jon did the tracking and simply pointed the prey out through the foliage, Theon could take the beast down. That was how most of their hunts had gone. This time was no different other than the tension between Jon and Theon… which wasn’t all that unusual. 

    Robb was up ahead of the other boys creeping through the trees and bushes. When he stopped and pointed out into the forest Theon and Jon knew he had spotted the buck. They quickly and quietly caught up to him. 

    “See him? He’s about 200 paces away.” Robb whispered. Jon shook his head yes. Theon just squinted harder. How am I supposed to see something that far away with a bunch of stupid trees in the way? He shifted closer to them and Jon pointed out the deer again, this time leaning closer to Theon so he could look down his arm to where he was indicating. 

    “I can see it!” Theon hissed at him. I have no fucking clue where this deer is… but I’ll be damned if say that in front of Jon. He knocked an arrow and raised his bow. I think he was pointing around here… that bit of brown must be it… Yes, that’s its chest. Ok Theon, through the heart. He exhaled and lossed his arrow. It sailed through the air and buried itself in the bucks left flank. The creature gave a sickening cry and fell to the ground.

    “Theon! If you didn’t have a view of its chest you should have said so, we could have moved!” Robb yelled as he and Jon jumped up and ran to the struggling animal in an effort to end its suffering quickly. Theon stood paralyzed. He always got his prey in one shot. He had an unspoken rule that he would never let an animal suffer because of his mistake. He had seen his brothers take joy in prolonging the death of their prey too many times to be able to stomach it anymore. He hadn’t made a mistake like this in years. 

    A cracking of branches and shuffling of leaves shook him from his thoughts and he started towards the deer. When he got there Jon had already slit the things's throat, ending its pain. Jon never flinches when it comes to things like this… as a true man should. The trio said nothing as they set about dressing the carcass for travel. Jon and Robb both knew how Theon felt about causing pain to animals. As they finished, each boy having a part of the game to carry home, Jon went to hand Theon his part to carry. Theon reached out to take it, keeping his eyes on the ground, unfocused. When the bundle wasn’t placed into his arms he looked up at Jon. Jon’s eyes were locked on Theon’s hands. When Theon looked down at them to see what was wrong he saw that he was shaking. His hands trembled and shook like a scared dog. Theon immediately felt himself turning red and quickly grabbed the bundle out of Jon’s arms and started off towards Robb and down the trail back to Winterfell. 

    When they finally got back they all went to the kitchen. When the head cook asked them how it went Robb gave a shrug.

    “It was fine. We got the deer in the end.” Robb didn’t look at Theon as he said this. He knew how sensitive Theon was about things like this and regretted yelling at him when it happened.

    The group walked out of the kitchen and nearly ran into Sansa with Old Nan.

    “There you are Robb.” Sansa said. “Mother said you need to go talk to her, now,  you're in trouble.” She finished with a smirk. Robb paled immediately.

    “Hush child!” Old Nan scolded. “You are not in trouble Robb. Your mother just wants to discuss the return of your father and the arrival of the new ward tomorrow. She is preparing for the feast in the great hall, we are heading there now, come along.” Robb looked at Theon and Jon as he followed after them.

    “You guys better not wait for me, I have a feeling this will take a while.” Robb called to them. The two stood there and watched as he turned the corner. They stood there quietly for a moment, then Theon started to walk towards his room. He stopped however when Jon started to speak.

    “Theon, wait… Are you ok? I know you didn’t get a clean shot but me and Robb were able to get to it quickly enough that it didn’t hav-“ Jon said in a concerned voice. He was cut off as Theon spun around at him and seethed.

    “I am fine . I don’t need some mopey bastard looking after me and my feelings.” Theon turned on his heels and stormed away. Jon stood and watched him leave. The thing is that Theon did need, and want, someone to look after his feelings, and with this new ward coming he would be needing it more than ever before. 

Chapter Text

    The sun was shining down sporadically through the clouds on to the courtyard. Most of Winterfell was gathered to welcome their lord home, and more importantly to get a look at the new ward.

    “I don’t understand what all this fanfare is about.” Sansa grumbled. “He’s just another ward.”

    “Stop it Sansa, father wants him to feel welcome here. We did the same for Theon when he first arrived.” Robb said, gesturing to the boy next to him. That was true, they had held a feast when Theon had been taken hostage. Theon remembered it as the first time he ate with Robb. Although he was so scared at the time that he had only eaten half a roll.

    “I doubt they did anything like that when you arrived.” Theon leaned over to whisper in Jon’s ear. Jon simply grimaced and proceeded to look even gloomier. 

    “Everyone is to make Ramsay feel welcomed here. He is a guest and we must show him how happy we are to have him here.” Robb said. Theon and the rest of the Stark siblings rolled their eyes. Robb was really leaning into this whole ‘welcoming host’ thing. Just then the sound of hoofbeats reached them. 

    “Shhh! Everyone quiet! Stop talking!” Robb whisper-shouted at them while waving his hands, the party of horsemen not yet in sight.

    “You were the only one talking.” Arya grumbled.

    Theon straightened up to his full height and tried to put on his most ‘regal and board’ expression. I hope he’s not taller than me, being the same height as Jon is embarrassing enough. When the group arrived the crowd gathered strained to spot the new face amongst them. The majority of the banner men of winterfell had returned a few days prior, Ned and a handful of his men stayed behind to negotiate with Roose and ensure everything was in order. The group arriving only contained seven horses. Ned was on his white stallion at the head of them. His whole expression lit up when he saw his family standing there waiting for him. Theon felt a sharp pang of envy and sadness when he was not included in that gaze.

    Ned was followed in by the rest of the group. Theon recognized all the horses but one. It was a large blood bay horse with no white markings to speak of, and a thick black mane and tail. It was well muscled and sleek. Obviously bred for power rather than endurance, it had a thin film of sweat on its chest. The horse was beautiful and eye-catching, but Theon found his gaze almost immediately drawn upwards. So that is Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Bolton… he seems to be quite handsome. He was certainly from northern stock, his tall and well muscled frame obvious even under his gray cloak. He dismounted and gave a pat to his horse. Damn, he is taller than me… by a few inches at least. All thoughts about height quickly left him though when he got a good look at the bastard's face. He is handsome, handsome indeed. He had a strong square jaw, and pink lips that contrasted nicely with his pale skin. His midnight black wavy hair was wind tousled. But most striking of all was his eyes, like two shards of ice, they were a blue so light they were almost gray. He looked around at the courtyard and quickly scanned the crowd that had come to see him arrive. Theon could have sworn that the bastard's eyes lingard on him for a moment. 

    “Ramsay, welcome to Winterfell.” Ned said, walking up beside him. “This is my family: Catelyn, Robb, Jon, Sansa, Bran, Arya, and Rickon.” It was not lost on all those around how Catelyn stiffened when Ned included Jon in the introduction alongside his other children. “This is my other ward, Theon Greyjoy.” Theon put on the most casual yet still charming and friendly smile that he could, he was determined to make a good impression. 

    “It is wonderful to meet you all,” Ramsay said with a smile and slight bow “I am Ramsay Snow of house Bolton.”

    The great hall was full of boisterous, happy voices. Ned had Theon and Ramsay seated next to each other. He had given Theon specific instructions to make sure Ramsay felt welcome. Theon was currently doing his best to appear nonchalant about this task, although he was begging the Drowned God to let this go well. Ramsay had spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and getting settled, so this would be their first time actually speaking to one another. 

    Theon picked casually at his plate of food. He had gotten all but the venison for himself. He could still hear the animal’s wounded cry from the previous day. He noted how much food Ramsay had piled onto his own plate, consisting mostly of red meat from the deer. What is he going to do with all that meat, feed every dog in the kennels? That’s a northern for you. I suppose he is fairly big so he must eat a lot… still, you would think he is allergic to vegetables. 

    When they were both seated Theon decided it was time to make a good first impression. “So Ramsay, what do you think of Winterfell so far?” Really Theon, that's the best you could come up with? 

    “I can’t really say yet, I did just arrive a few hours ago.” He responded with a slight smirk, as if he found Theon’s opening line entertaining.

    “Heh, yes I guess so.” Theon rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “The horse you arrived on is beautiful.” Theon was going to get this new ward to like him. 

    “Thank you, his name is Blood.” Ramsay responded. He always loved watching people’s faces when he told them the name of his horse. Theon did not disappoint. First confusion: his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned slightly. Did he say Blood? He named his horse Blood? Then shock: his eyebrows raising and lips forming a soft ‘o’. What kind of man would do that? And I thought Jon was dark. Followed by a quick attempt at covering it all up.

    “Oh, it's quite fitting…with his coloring and all.” Theon said in a polite tone. “How old is he?”

    “Just turned nine.” Ramsay seemed to be done with the conversation; He began tearing into the food in front of him. 

    “Oh! He’s just two years older than my horse!” Theon said, trying to keep the exchange going. He waited a moment for Ramsay to respond, the other boy simply grunted without looking up and continued eating. 

    That’s it? He’s not going to respond to me at all? I was nice enough to talk to you in the first place, bastard! What else could you expect from a low born. By the Drowned God he’s worse than Jon! … No, no, he must just be nervous. I could hardly get out a full sentence when I first arrived here due to my nerves. I’ll ask him something simple then.

    “The trip was not too hard on you, though? There were some cold nights, I’m sure being on the road for them wasn’t too enjoyable.” Theon asked, putting on his ‘aren't I nice for talking to you’ voice, still irritated at being more or less ignored moments before. Ramsay gave a small sigh and set his fork down, he kept his eyes forward and responded in a patronizing tone without looking at him.

    “It didn’t get too cold at all… well at least not too cold for us northerners.” He finished with a smirk and side-long glance at Theon. Did he just call me a weak southern? Theon immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. Of course he was right to do so when it came to Ramsay, as that had been his intention. 

    Ramsay had done his research before coming to Winterfell. There was no shortage of rumors running around about the Starks' other ward. How his father had sent him away without any fight, choosing to keep his daughter instead. The fact that he spent most of his days with Robb Stark and his bastard brother Jon, and his nights with different women. That he was good with horses, and even better with a bow. Ramsay had heard countless stories of the boys arrogance and pride, how he took any chance he had to belittle anyone around him that wasn’t high born or someone he was trying to fuck. All in all Ramsay was not looking forward to living with the boy. That had lessened slightly when he first saw him though. Ramsay liked the look of him, the rumors had said he was handsome. Ramsay had to agree, he was cute in a I-want-to-bully-you-until-you-cry type of way. But most of the people who Ramsay found attractive were like that. 

    Ramsay knew that his slight had hit home when Theon’s face grew indignant and irritated. He was sure that Theon was not used to being insulted to his face in such a way. He was right about that, at least since Theon came to Winterfell the worst he had to deal with was when he got into trouble and Ned scolded him. Theon would not take the slight lying down. 

    “Oh yes, I’m sure a northern bastard like you has spent many hours out in the cold. I wouldn’t want to waste my firewood on a bastard if I was your father either. Your last name is Snow after all, I’m sure you're impervious to the stuff.” Theon said, looking down his nose at the other boy with a sneer. Ramsay’s entire expression changed as soon as the word ‘bastard’ left Theons mouth and only darkened as he kept talking. 

    “And I’m sure that one gust of wind is enough to freeze you to the bone, dressed as a lady like that. You even smell like a delicate woman, you reek of perfume.” Ramsay hissed. He knew he hit a soft spot when Theon’s face went bright red and he gave an indigent scoff. Ramsay decided he liked the way the boy blushed. 

    “You can’t talk to me like that, I am a lord. A princ- '' Theon sputtered at him.

    “A prince, really? Is this how the iron born treat their royalty? Send them away as collateral damage? Or is that just what they do with the lords that turn out to be popups fools?” The people seated around the pair had fallen quiet, listening to the two throwing insults back and forth. Jon, who sat on the other side of the table and down a few seats, looked as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. No one talked to Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy, Prince and heir of the Iron Islands, that way. Theon was at a loss for words. He had never expected the new ward to be such an asshole! He couldn’t think of a thing to say back, and felt his face growing redder by the moment. The final straw was when he heard others around them start to whisper and snicker under their breaths. With his pride in taters he stood up and stormed out of the dining hall. 

    Ramsay smirked after the mortified boy and took his abandoned plate, sliding the contents onto his own and resumed eating. Looks like things won’t be so boring around here after all. He thought to himself as he ate his meal and Theon’s. 

    There was a knock on Theon’s door; He stopped his angry pacing to send a withering glare at the large piece of wood. He had been in his chambers for around an hour. He knew that the feast was over by the sound of people walking through the hallways to retire for the night. He was furious. He just arrived and decided to shit all over my hospitality! I’m a lord, a PRINCE!! It’s an honor for a bastard like him to even sit at the same table as me! His scathing thoughts were interrupted by the voice of whoever had rapped at his door.

    “Theon? Are you ok? I saw you leave just as the feast was starting, you looked livid. I tried to come find you sooner but father wouldn’t let me.” It was Robb. Of course it was kind, fair, and just Robb. Theon gave a huff as he felt his anger dissipate slightly. He walked over to the door and opened it for his friend. Robb greeted him with a shy, concerned smile. 

    “What happened?” He asked in a worried tone. 

    “That new bastard is what happened!” Theon exclaimed, his fury reigniting. “I try to have a nice, polite conversation with him and he ignores me!” Theon had begun his pacing again, forcing Robb to step to the side or risk being trampled. “I just thought he was nervous so I asked him an easy question, one even an uneducated low born like him could answer! ‘How was the trip here? It got cold I’m sure’ I said it just like that, polite and respectful and everything! What does he do? Doesn’t even look up from his food and goes ‘not too cold for us northerns.’” Theon looked at Robb as if he had just said the most vulgar insult to the whole of Westeros. Robb though was having to stop himself from smiling at Theon’s imitation of Ramsay. Theon’s recreation of his voice (and all north men for that matter) was comically low, gruff, and gravelly; it better suited a bear then a man. 

    “Can you believe him!?!?” Theon nearly shouted when Robb didn’t react to the devastating cruelty he had endured. 

    “…can I believe what?” Robb asked quietly, already flinching away from the outburst he knew that question was going to cause.

    “HE CALLED ME A WEAK SOUTHERN!!” Theon did shout this time.  Robb looked at him quizzically, after a moment of thought realization dawned on his face.

    “No he didn’t Theon, I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”

    “Yes, he did!”

    “Why would he want to start a fight the first night he’s here? I’m sure it was just nerves.”

    “Then what about all the rude things he said after?! Huh, what about that stuff?”

    “Well, how did you respond?” Theon got quite at this question, casting his eyes down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought so. You know Theon, everyone isn’t out to get you, we all- oh Ramsay!” Robb cut his speech short when he spotted the new ward walking to his room, ready to retire for the night. 

    Theon stiffened noticeably at his appearance. Theon knew he didn’t have the mental fortitude for more insults tonight. Ramsay however was ready for another go at the cocky young lord. He walked over to the two, stopping in Theons doorway and leaning against it casually, scanning the interior of his room. Look at him acting like he owns the place. Robb, you see what I mean now? 

    “Ramsay, I heard about what happened at dinner tonight, and wanted to clear the air. I’m sure that any perceived insult was taken out of context and not intended to harm any feelings. It has been a long day for everyone and things were said that were not meant. I just want to make sure that we all put this behind ourselves and start new tomorrow.” He looked expectedly between the two, proud of his expert diplomacy. 

    “Of course,” Ramsay pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the room and up to Theon’s side, putting a hand on his right shoulder. “It was a hard few days on the road,  my mind was clearly not with me during our exchange, Lord Greyjoy.” Ramsay had to stop his expression from souring at calling the idiot next to him by such a title. “I hope we will be able to get along with each other.” Ramsay finished with a sweet smile. Robb looked hopefully to Theon.

    “…I feel the same way.” Theon grumbled. 

    “Excellent. Well then, I’m off to rest, I will see you two tomorrow morning!” Robb said happily and walked out of the room to his own bed for the night. As soon as he was out of sight Ramsay's grip on Theon’s shoulder became crushing. Theon gasped and dipped his side down in an attempt to get out of the grip, but Ramsay simply pushed down harder while increasing the strength of his hold. Ramsay was larger than Theon and certainly more muscular, the combination of the two plus the shock of the sudden violence had Theon being pushed to his knees.

    “Really couldn’t handle that yourself? Had to get big scary Robb to protect you? You really must be a woman after all.” Ramsay snickered. “Just a few mean words and you run off crying. Pathetic, no wonder your father sent you away without a fight.” Ramsay paused for a moment to take in the sight of Theon, shocked and scared on the ground under him. His cruel grin took on a hungry shadow. “I’m sure you’ve spent plenty of time in this position, haven’t you?” Theon found himself turning red, realizing that he was eye level with his cock. “Well not yet sweetheart, it was a hard few days on the road after all.” He chuckled darkly, admiring the sight. He decided he liked the way he looked there. “I should be getting my sleep now,” he let go of Theon who fell forward, catching himself with one hand, and clutched at his quickly brushing shoulder with the other. “I’m sure we will have a busy day tomorrow. Good night Lord Greyjoy.” Ramsay called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. 

    Theon stayed like that, on his hands and knees holding his aching right shoulder and staring at the ground. Shock was the only thing that was in his mind currently. Shock at what had just happened. He took a few more minutes to compose himself, then sat up. It took all his willpower not to start crying. Being spoken down to in such a way, while also being physically hurt brought him right back to his childhood. The most important thing that was missing was the loving embrace of his mother to send all the scary things away. Unfortunately, he was going to have to handle this himself

Chapter Text

    Theon had barely slept at all last night. His head was full of how he should have handled Ramsay. He was horrified to find how similar he felt about the whole situation as to when his father would abuse him. Wanting to hate who was causing him pain but more so wanting them to just like him. The Theon who had only lived on the Islands wanted to go up to Ramsay the first chance he had and apologize for what he had done, ask for forgiveness, and show him that he was worthy of his friendship. The Theon that fucked whores and bullied Jon wanted to punch his teeth out and cut his dick off. Unfortunately for both of those Theon's, what he actually did when he saw Ramsay that morning was nothing. 

    He had arrived to breakfast late (due to his lack of sleep), and found that his usual spot had been taken by Ramsay. He would either have to sit at a different table by himself or next to the new ward on the end of the bench. If there was one thing Theon hated more than being bullied it was being alone. 

    He tossed his plate next to Ramsays and plopped down on the seat. “Morning“ he said gruffly, not looking up at anyone. 

    “Finally! Thought you had decided to sleep the whole day away!” Robb said excitedly. “Ramsay was just talking to us about the hounds they keep at the Dreadfort, he’s going to show us some tricks for Greywind to learn.” 

    “Oh… that sounds fun.” Theon said, keeping his eyes trained on his food. Why do you want to be friends with this bastard, Robb? Isn’t one enough?

    “I’m sure you wouldn’t have any interest in it, Lord Greyjoy. Maybe if it was training a squid you would?” Ramsay said with a cruel grin. Everyone at the table traded surprised glances then slowly started to laugh. No one ever insulted Theon to his face like that.

    Theon felt his ears burning.  

    “heh…maybe.” He responded quietly. Being teased like this made him feel like he was back home on Pyke, about to be drowned by his brothers as a joke again. It was not something he was going to accept without a fight. “Though, I doubt there’s much a low born can teach me.” He would have rather used his bastard-hood as ammunition as opposed to his class; but he knew better than to pull the bastard card within earshot of Ned, and more importantly Catelyn.

    Ramsay raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that he was talking back. The boy he had left alone in his room last night didn’t seem like the type.

    “Now, now, let’s wait until we are done eating before we start trading insults.” Robb said amicably, he really just wanted everyone to get along. 

    Fine, we can save this for sparring, bastard. Theon was going to put him in his place.

    Theon knew he wasn’t the strongest. It was obvious in his build. At his best, when he ate as much as he could without vomiting at every meal and did strength training whenever he had a free moment, he was a lean muscular type. At his worst he was skinny. He envied the other boys' builds. Jon, Robb, and now Ramsay were all bulkier and more muscular than him. Not to mention that Robb and Ramsay were taller! Theon knew how to use his attributes to his advantage though. He was fast, flexible, and had a great eye for openings in defenses. Unfortunately he just wasn’t as coordinated with a sword as a bow. Still he was determined to show this Ramsay bastard a thing or two.

    After the four boys had gotten their training weapons from the armory, Theon retrieving the lightest sword of the group, they went to Ser Rodrick Cassel for instruction. 

    “Alright, you all are to start on the straw dummies. Ramsay, I want to see what skill you have with a sword.” Ser Rodrick announced when they were all gathered. Theon kept his eye on the boy as they were led through the movements. Hah! Is this the first time the bastard has held a sword?! He’s about as graceful as a fish on land with it! Theon had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Let’s spar and everyone can watch me put you on your ass.

    “Enough of that.” Ser Rodrick said after they had all done a few rounds of motions. “Let’s get sparring; Robb and Ramsay you two start.” The two squared up in the center of the courtyard. Ramsay was the first to attack. It was a clumsy step forward followed by a stab at Robb’s chest. Robb easily parried the move and swiped at his arm, connecting with a solid thwack . 

    “Ramsay, don’t stab! It opens yourself up for attack!” Ser Rodrick coached as most of those watching winced for the new ward. Ramsay nodded his head and regained his footing. Robb gave him a moment to gather himself then slowly swung at his shoulder, Ramsay was just barely able to get his sword up in time to block it. This is hilarious! Robb's going easy on him and he still can barely hold his own. How can someone act as he does while not being able to fend off a field mouse? Theon had to stifle a laugh as Ramsay brought his sword over his head to swing down at Robb. Ramsay and his sword hit the ground with a thud and cloud of dust. Robb had hit him in his side, and with his sword over his head he was easily knocked down.

    “Never bring your sword over your head like that. It leaves your entire body open and throws off your balance. Robb was nice to not hit you in the face just now, it's what you deserve for trying such a hair brained thing.” Ser Rodrick said as Robb helped Ramsay up. Ramsay nodded his head and took his place off to the side. The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed about how abysmal that was. Theon thought as he took position against Jon. Ser Rodrick gave them the sign to start and Theon took the first chance to swing. Jon was probably the best at swordsmanship, with Robb close behind. Theon usually was able to hold his own, but almost always lost in the end. That was mostly why Jon didn’t beat the shit out of Theon whenever he was teased by him: he got to beat the shit out of him in training. 

    This time Theon was fueled by a desire to show Ramsay how good he was. He put up a decent fight and in the end only lost due to Jons’ superior strength. 

    “Alright, take a moment to get some water. Robb and Jon you two will go next.” Ser Rodrick said. Theon had to keep the smile off his face. He couldn’t wait to make a fool out of this bastard.

    “I really thought that you would be at least somewhat competent with a sword given how you like to run your mouth. But then again bastards aren’t known for their intelligence.” Theon said to Ramsay with a cruel smirk, as they made their way to the water.

    “Theon!” Robb grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away. “Why would you say that? I thought that you were going to get along with each other.” Theon looked from Robb to Ramsay with his mouth hanging open slightly. Robb didn’t know what the bastard had done once he left last night. He was about to tell Robb what had happened, the vulgarity and violence he had been put through. He stopped when he remembered how he had done nothing to defend himself from Ramsay and the things he claimed. 

    “…yeah, alright Robb.” Theon mumbled as he looked down. He did not want to explain any of that. When he looked up he saw that Ramsay had a slight smirk on his face. Is he happy that Robb just told me off? What is wrong with this Snow? Now I’m really not going easy on you. 

    Robb and Jon sparred next. As the two best, their bout usually lasted the longest. Today was no different. Theon watched Ramsay from the corner of his eye the whole time. Look at him just standing there. I hope you’re taking notes, you’re going to need all the help you can get. Ramsay stood relaxed, unconcerned about the next match. When Robb and Jon finished, Theon was almost too eager to step into the ring. Ramsay on the other hand shuffled in and held his sword in a lax, inexperienced grip.

    Theon lunged at the bastard as soon as Ser Rodrick gave the que to start. He went right for the winning blow: a strong angled swing at Ramsay's non-dominant hand. Theon was just as shocked as everyone else in the courtyard when Ramsay raised his sword to block with expert precision. Theon gaped as he stumbled back, the reverberation running up his arms painfully. He did not have a moment to comprehend the change in his opponent as he began to block blow after blow. The loose, inept hold was now firm and confident. Ramsay swung expertly, each move full of power and strength. Theon had always thought he was fast, but he was nothing compared to Ramsay. He found himself being driven back, only able to just barely block each attack.

    “That's it Ramsay!” Ser Rodrick said after the initial shock had worn off. “Theon, stop backing up! Hold your ground. And for all the Gods, try to hit him!” All that advice quickly became irrelevant, as Theon was knocked to the ground with a particularly strong blow. Everyone was quiet, stunned into silence by the sudden change in the new ward. The hush was broken by a bark of Jon’s laughter. He slapped a hand over his mouth as they all turned to look at him. 

    “Sorry…I just… wasn’t expecting that.” He said, stifling his laughter. Theon was beet red as he looked up at Ramsay. The bastard was fooling me. He knew I would be caught off guard. He took all that criticism and those blows just to make me look like an idiot. 

    “I don’t think any of us were, especially not Theon.” Ser Rodrick said, laughing himself. “I think that’s enough for today. Get some water and clean up, then go to Luwin for your schooling.” 

    Theon was shocked into silence. He picked himself up and walked towards where they had placed their flasks of water in a daze. He kept his eyes on the ground, thinking through the spar he had just lost. His thoughts were interrupted when a pair of large black boots blocked his path. He looked up into ice blue eyes and a face full of mirth. 

    “I believe there is a thing or two I could teach you about swordsmanship, low born that I am. Or do they not allow women to fight in the Iron Islands?” Ramsay had enjoyed pretending to be incompetent for a change. Everyone at the Dreadfort knew how talented he was with steel, he hardly ever got to pull that trick on anyone back home. 

    Theon clenched his jaw and balled his fists.

    “…I suppose so. Although you do have an unfair advantage given how it’s in your nature to be violent…being a bastard and all.” Theon said, mustering up his meanest smirk. He was about to throw another insult when Ramsay’s fist collided with his mouth. Stunned he fell backwards, and Ramsay was on top of him the moment he hit the ground. Theon tried to get his hands up and cover his face, but the blows were too many and too strong. Each one snapped his head back, causing it to rickashay off the ground. After the seventh blow he was able to finally get his arms around his head. The shelter they provided was short lived, as Ramsay grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Theon blinked up at him through the blood that ran down from the fresh cut on his eyebrow. He was gasping and shaking, pain radiating from his face. He stared into ice eyes and saw anger and hunger. What that hunger was for, he didn’t know. Ramsay's black hair brushed against Theons’ own sandy blond as he leaned down. He was so close now that if Theon had the desire, or strength, he could have lifted up and kissed him. 

    “You’ll do well to not call me that again.” Ramsay hissed. Theon simply stared up at him. Ramsay was gone in a flash as Jon pulled him off. He and Robb had taken the swords back to the weaponry. Robb had not returned yet, so it was Jon who found Theon pinned beneath Ramsay, bloodied and shaking. 

    “What are you doing?! You want Ned to tan your hide?!” Jon said in a hushed tone, not wanting to attract any attention to the empty courtyard.

    “I was putting him in his place, it seems someone has to.” Ramsay responded coolly, pulling Jon’s hands off him. “You see how he acts. He walks around talking down to everyone who isn’t a Stark or a possible fuck. He’s the worst to you. I've only been here for a day and I know how he treats you. You’re more of a Stark than he is, yet you put up with his bullshit the most. It’s pathetic and I won't let him do the same to me.” He turned and walked away, leaving Jon standing there stunned and contemplating his words, with Theon on the ground. 

    Jon was still for a moment, then he turned to Theon and offered him a hand to get up. Theon slapped it away and struggled to his feet himself. He glared at Jon, though it was nowhere near as intimidating as it had been in the past (granted the islander had never been particularly scary). His face was blooded and starting to swell, with bruises already beginning to take shape across his skin. When Jon looked in his eyes he saw that he was on the verge of tears. 

    “You are a bastard, Jon Snow. And I will be damned before I take a helping hand from you .” Theon whispered, still shaking. Just then he heard Robb coming into the courtyard; he ran. He was not facing Robb like this, not if he could help it. Jon watched him go, his eyes darkening. 

    “Where’s Theon going?” Robb asked when he got to Jon. He always took forever to put anything away.

    “…He’s not feeling well. Says he’s not going to lessons today.” Jon replied without looking at him, still staring in the direction Theon had run off in. Maybe Ramsay had a point after all.  

Chapter Text

    Theon ran all the way to Smiler’s pasture, trying to hold in the tears. Luckily he didn’t come across anyone. He didn’t even stop to open the gate, he just hopped the fence and ran to his horse.

    “Smil-er” he hiccuped out his name, he was on the verge of full on crying. Something in his voice had alerted the black stallion to the issue, because he came cantering to Theon. When Smiler got to him he stuck his nose to his face trying to understand what was wrong. That was the last thing Theon needed. He started to cry. He grabbed onto Smiler's neck, buried his face in the black braids and cried. The stress, anxiety, and now shattered hopes of friendship, all hit him in that moment. It hit almost as hard as Ramsay. 

    Smiler stood still and let his human have his mental break down all over his clean braids. He had been having to do this more often. It seemed this Ramsay person was no good for his human’s mindset. 

    “i-i don’t know wh-at to d-do… he hates-s me.” Theon choked out. Whenever he got overwhelmed like this he nearly lost all ability to speak, he had been like that since he was living on the Iron Islands. Though the habit had not shown itself for a while as he had no reason to get this upset. It really was like he was back home with his brothers and father, but instead of a loving mother, protective older sister, and uncle who didn’t want him dead, he only had a horse to care for him. 

    Theon stayed like that for a while. All the standing training he had done with Smiler really paid off. When he had finally stopped crying he stepped back. 

    “…sorry, Smiley.” He said, wiping his tears and snot off his horse's neck and mane. It hit him then that he was exhausted. He was drained both physically and mentally. The thought of going back to his chambers right next to Ramsay and Jon’s made his stomach twist into knots.

    He looked around the pasture and sighed to himself. Might as well take a nap here. He walked further into the field and lay down under a large maple tree. It was warm enough, and he had layers on too (he always did in the north). A tree for a roof and grass as my pillow, father would be proud. That last bit was dripping with sarcasm even in his mind. He saw Smiler drop his head down to graze a few paces away. The sight was comforting enough that Theon sighed and drifted off to sleep. 

    He was in his room, it was dark out and he was just wearing his shift. The fireplace blazed, giving off a nice warmth, heating the room beyond what the hot spring water in the walls could. He was seated at his desk, sketching. The drawing he was working on was of a tall, strong rider on a blood bay horse. The rider was looking off into the distance, black hair messy in the breeze. 

    His attention was drawn away from his work when the door to his room opened. Ramsay stood in his doorway. He was wearing the clothes he had arrived at Winterfell in. Gray cloak with a red x on the back, brown breeches, and a dark blue jerkin. His black boots, still muddy from the road, clicked against the stone floor as he approached Theon. 

    “Ramsay… what are yo-“ He was cut off as Ramsay grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him. It was long and deep, Ramsay’s tongue exploring his mouth and his teeth nipping at his lips. Theon melted into it. His soft noises of surprise swallowed by the hungry mouth entwined with his. 

    He ran his hands up over Ramsay’s broad shoulders and clasped them behind his neck, pulling himself up into the kiss. Ramsay followed his motion and wrapped his arms around Theon’s slender frame, scooping him up effortlessly. When he was up in the air Theon locked his legs around Ramsay's torso. The whole time their kiss becoming more desperate. Ramsay walked towards his bed, Theon gasped as the kiss was broken and he was dropped onto the mattress. 

    He whined at having the strong body and soft lips leave him. It was only for a moment though, as Ramsay came back and pinned him down. It’s not like he needs to, I’m not going anywhere. Theon thought as he was kissed again. He found that he loved the feeling of being under a large, strong body. The warmth and protection he found in it was everything he lacked in childhood and more. 

    He wrapped his fingers in wavy black hair and moaned when he felt Ramsay press his body against him. When did we take our clothes off? The kiss was broken by Ramsay, he pulled back and licked his lips, admiring the slim body under him. Theon took the chance to scan Ramsay’s muscular frame. It was everything he hoped for and more. He was made up of strong muscles under pale skin, with a coating of dark hair at his chest and navel. His cock was large and dripping already. The sight made Theon whine high and desperate. 

    “You are adorable, aren’t you?” Ramsay purred. He leaned back down planting kisses on his jaw. He worked his way down, sucking and licking all the way to his chest. “These I find particularly cute.” He pinched both his nipples and Theon gasped. It turned into a moan though as Ramsay rolled, and began to play with them. His hands worked at the small mounds as his mouth trailed further down. He pulled back when he got to Theon's cock, already standing at full attention. 

    “Your hair is awfully sparse down here, darling.” He said as he took Theons legs behind the knees and pushed them up to his chest. The position exposed his hole perfectly. Ramsay smirked and looked back up at him. “Almost no hair to speak of here…. I love it.” Theon gasped as Ramsay's head disappeared and he felt a warm tongue lick across his hole. The wet muscle laved at the pucker of his hole. Theon nearly leapt off the bed when Ramsay closed his lips around his ring and sucked. When he relished the pressure he began worrying his tongue inside him. That tongue was magic. It worked Theon open with long thrusts and rolled against his walls. Ramsays mouth had him moaning and squirming with his eyes rolled back in his head in moments.

    He gasped when he felt a slick finger join the tongue inside him. Where did he get oil? The first finger was quickly joined by a second and then third. By the time Ramsay pulled away Theon was a mess. He had to hold himself back from cumming multiple times already. When he saw Ramsay go to line himself up, Theon put a hand on his stomach to stop him. 

    “Ram-say” he choked out. “Wait, if-if you put it in now, I-i don’t think I’ll l-last.” Ramsay just smirked and kissed him. He kept kissing him as he pushed in. Theons cry of pleasure was swallowed hungrily by Ramsay's mouth. Ramsay slowly worked his way in. It was a steady, smooth slide all the way to the hilt. How did I go this long without this? Once fully seated in him, Ramsay pulled back to admire his face. He stroked his cheek and Theon leaned into the touch. 

    “You are doing so well. Such a good boy…” Ramsay rumbled out. He was full and stretched. The heat was like being buried in a woman, but instead of just his cock experiencing that warmth, it was his whole body. He was melting from the inside. “Ready sweetling?” He didn’t give Theon the chance to answer. He started to pound into him with shocking force.

    “Aahh Ra-Ramsay!” Theon cried out. He knew he wouldn’t last long at all. Ramsay plowed into him relentlessly. His full length coming almost all the way out and then slamming in, all the way to the base. The smooth pull and push of the cock inside him was mesmerizing. Empty to full, to empty and back to full. Every time he thrust in, Theon saw stars behind his eyes. 

    He could hear the sounds coming from him, wet and sloppy. I sound like a girl. Both my ass and my mouth. That realization would normally make his insides curl up with self hatred and memory’s of his father yelling; but as it was they were too full of cock to do so. 

    “How do you like it, sweetling?” Ramsay panted. “You going to cum for me?”

    “Y-yes! Dro-wned God ye-s!” His whole body trembled and shook with his orgasm. He spent all over his stomach, painting himself white. He could feel Ramsay throb, snug against his walls. As he came he felt a burst of wet warmth inside his hole, it trickled out of him and down his asscrack where it dripped onto the bed. Ramsay looked at him and smiled as he kissed him again.

    “Good boy Theon, good boy.”

    Theon shot up from the grass. He was flushed and sweaty and had a wet spot on his breeches. He looked around and saw that the sun was just starting to set. How long was I out? He looked down at the dampness on his crotch. Did I just have a dream of Ramsay fucking me? Theon was stunned. Sure he had dreams similar to that since he was around 13, but of someone he hated? 

   Theon stood and dusted the grass from himself, confused and startled by his actions in his dream. Why would I dream that? Having a dream of Robb fucking me, or even Jon makes more sense! His thoughts were interrupted when he spotted Smiler a small ways off.

   “You wouldn’t believe the dream I just had.” He said approaching him and giving a scratch to his neck. Smiler certainly did believe him, he knew every time the boy had one of them seeing as he was the one who had to hear about it in the middle of the night. “I’m going for a walk, you have about another hour before you go inside for dinner… and I need to get this to dry.” He nodded to the wet spot on his breeches. “Thanks for letting me use you as a horsey handkerchief. I’ll bring you an apple later tonight.” He kissed Smiler on the nose and walked to the gate. He looked down at himself as he started walking. I hope it does take too long to dry. 

    Theon knew he was promiscuous, he was the first to admit it. But that was when it came to women, when it was men… it was a different story. He had no idea that men could even fuck each other until he had over heard a couple of guards talking about it. He had asked his father what it meant when men 'buggered’ each other. That had been a mistake. He still remembers how hard his father had slapped him and his booming voice calling after him as he ran out of the hall:

   “You ever ask me something like that again and I’ll cut off one of your fingers!!” Theon had spent the rest of the day crying on the beach. He only stopped when his uncle Euron found him. When he told his uncle what had happened the older man had grinned and told him:

   “Well little Theon, it’s when two men have sex. But there is cunt to put it in, so one of them needs to take it up the arse.” He was eight. He didn’t really know any more details than that until he met Ros. He had asked her if she knew anything about how two men fucked, he had been particularly drunk that night. She explained in great detail. That was how he knew that ‘prep’ was involved; Usually a tongue or a few fingers with lots and lots of oil. It was also how he found out that men could cum just from a cock in their ass, all due to a little thing she called the ‘sweet spot’. 

    He had no real life experience, with his ass or any other man’s. So in his dreams it was simply how he thought it would go. Why the man doing the fucking was Ramsay though, he had no clue. Had he felt a tingling in his crotch when Ramsay had pinned him down in the courtyard? Yes. But that didn’t mean anything! He was just tired and hungry. It was close to dinner time back at Winterfell anyway. As much as I never want to see either of those bastards again… I need to go back. If Ramsay ever tries anything like that again I’ll be sure to make him regret it.

    “Theon! What happened?! Jon said that you felt sick and weren’t going to the rest of lessons. But when I went to check on you in your room you weren’t there.” Robb gasped and quickly finished closing the gap between them when he spotted Theon’s injuries. “And what happened to your face!?! Are you ok?!”

    “Yeah, I felt better after I had a quick nap. I decided to take Smiler out for a ride. A deer ran out of the bushes and spooked him. I took a tumble, as you can see.” Theon responded with a shrug, he had come up with that excuse on his walk earlier. He didn’t look at anyone as he spoke, keeping his gaze on the food at the table in a way he hoped was nonchalant. He mustered the most casual voice he could, though it still shook slightly. 

    “Do you want to go see the Master? It looks quite painful.” Ned asked. He had gotten up from his chair at the head of the table and approached when he heard his son’s reaction. 

    “No, I’m fine. It takes a lot more to send a Greyjoy to the Master.” He gave Ned and Robb a smirk. Ow, I think I just split my lip more. He brushed past them to take his seat at the table. He faltered for a second when he saw that the only open seat was next to Jon at the end of the bench. He made his feet continue forward, forcing his limbs to work through the embarrassment that he was sure was showing on his face. To have to sit next to the low born, gloomy bastard that saw me laid out by another low born bastard; this day couldn’t possibly get worse. 

    He flopped down heavily, hoping that if he pretended to be confident and comfortable he would feel that way too. As he started to cut apart the meat that was placed on his plate by the serving girl, one he would sometimes fuck behind the pile of firewood in the kitchen, he spotted Ramsay looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

    Everyone at the table was looking at him, but the gaze he felt the most was from ice blue eyes. Ramsay had a small, self satisfied smirk on his face, he looked pleased with himself. He liked this version of Theon, marked by him and trying to pretend that it was nothing while avoiding his gaze. It suited the islander much better than the cocky high born lord he pretended to be. 

    “Horses and boats are quite different, you’re still adjusting I’m sure.” Ramsay said, his voice condescending. 

    “…heh, maybe.” He didn’t look up from his plate, Theon had decided to ignore whatever Ramsay was going to say to him, at least for tonight. The slight still irritated him to no end though. This bastard…is he happy that I didn’t tell them what happened? Of course I won't tell them. He thinks that I wont ever make fun of a low born bastard ever again? That all it takes is a few little hits and I’ll roll over for every bastard forever?

    The conversation picked back up at the table, and then by the rest of the hall. Theon kept quiet the whole meal, focusing on eating at the right side of his mouth as the left cheek had a cut that hurt each time he chewed. 

    “Jayne and I picked some flowers from the garden today, we are going to try to make our own dye!” Sansa was telling Robb excitedly. 

    “Well let me know when you make a nice dark blue, I have a tunic that you can try it on.” Robb looked at Jon seated next to him. “Do you have any color requests?” Jon thought for a moment, but when he opened his mouth to respond he was interrupted.

    “I don’t think Sansa wants to make black dye. We all know Jon is far too sad and mopey to wear anything of color.” Theon said with his cruelest grin. He felt miserable, so in turn someone else had to feel that way too. Jon was alway the perfect candidate for that. In Theon’s years at Winterfell he could count on one hand the times that Jon had done anything about his teasing other than brood more. Of course that time in the woods two days ago was by far the most angry he had gotten at Theon. He was sure that Jon would be a nice punching bag for him tonight. 

    “I may dress in black…but I think that’s much better than dressing like a woman.” Jon spoke coldly, all the while looking Theon in the eyes. … what? did he just say that i dress like a lady? Theon had sooner expected Jon to sprout wings and fly away than to insult him back. 

    “…Well, the women certainly don’t mind how I dress.” 

    “The whores you go to would fuck a pig if payed enough, I don’t think that they are a good judge of dress, Theon.” Jon kept his gaze on Theon the whole time. Jon had always had clever retorts to Theon’s insults in his mind, but he never expected all it would take was some teasing on his end to shut the islander up. And it did shut him up.

    Theon looked back at him stunned into silence. He had never truly had someone reciprocate his cruelty equally, except for Ramsay. At home on the islands he was always on the receiving end, the youngest and smallest so by default the punching bag. When he came to Winterfell he was the oldest. So of course he got to do the bullying and everyone just had to take it. In truth Jon was the only one he acutely bullied consistently, so it was a total of one that put up with Theon’s bullshit. 

    Theon, not knowing what else to do, looked to Ned a few seats away from them at the head of the table. Jon seemed to come back to himself and he quickly turned to look at Ned too, worried that there would be an admonishment waiting for him. But to both Jon and Theon’s surprise Ned simply gave a nod and nearly imperceivable smile to Jon. 

    Ned knew how Theon treated Jon. Everyone in Winterfell knew. He had never been able to do anything about it though. Theon was a ward and the heir to the Iron Islands, as he was so fond of reminding everyone. While Jon was a bastard, or at least needed to be treated like one. The two boys' political standings alone were enough to make any protection of Jon a poor diplomatic gesture. Ned was also sure that if he ever defended Jon, Catelyn would have his head. She despised whenever Ned treated Jon like a son, or even like a child he cared about at all. All Ned could do, or felt he could do, was hope that Jon would stand up for himself. 

    Ned's reaction was as much of a scolding to Theon as it was praise to Jon. He quickly looked back to his plate of food as conversation continued around them. He could feel two sets of eyes on him, one dark, nearly black, and the other ice blue. Both were crinkled at the corners, triumphant, satisfied smirks under them. Theon no longer felt hungry.

Chapter Text

    Theon walked as fast as he could back to his room. He was trying to out pace Ramsay, who he could hear following close behind, but he was not so lucky.

    “Theon, are you sure you don’t want to see the master?” Ramsay asked in a saccharin sweet voice. “That fall did a number on you.”

    He whirled around, his fists clenched and ready for a fight. Ramsay stopped, still smiling. That grin was all it took for him to lose his patience. He grabbed Ramsay by the collar and yanked him closer. Ramsay let himself be pulled in. All the while his smile in place. It was nice seeing Theon come undone like this.

    “Listen, I’m going to let you get away with striking me, this once . Don’t feel special, it's just because I don’t want to worry Robb.” He let go and shoved Ramsay away, though he didn’t move an inch so he was the one that ended up taking a step back. “We don’t need to be the best of friends or even to like each other. But if we fight Ned will get angry at both of us. That is the only reason why I haven’t left you bloody on the ground.” Turning and walking into his room, he paused in the threshold to call over his shoulder. “You would do well to not overstep your bounds next time, bastard .” He slammed the door shut.

    Theon wanted to ‘put Ramsay in his place’ preferably without another beating. As long as he had an escape route he was free to say anything he wanted. Despite being in the safety of his chambers, he could still feel the gaze of ice on him through the wood. That should show him.

    Ramsay’s eyes blazed with anger. The little shit calls me a bastard and then runs away. He knows what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t, so he hides in his room. He’s so pathetic that it's almost cute.

    “Ramsay, what are you doing?” Jon asked, approaching from down the hall while looking at him quizzically. “Are you trying to fight with Theon again?”

    “Heh, no, I’m not. Lord Greyjoy here decided to throw some insults before he took cover in his room.” Ramsay gave him an appraising look out of the corner of his eye. “Apparently all it takes for him to shut his mouth is a few mean words. Even when it comes from his favorite victim.” Jon shrugged, looking at the ground.

    “You had a point earlier. Though I’m sure it will last long.” Jon let out a long suffering sigh. “By tomorrow morning he will be back to his teasing at every opportunity.”

    “Well, you know how to get him to stop now. A few less than kind words from you and he tucks his tail like a scared dog.” Ramsay walked to his own room a few steps away from Theon’s. “He’s not as menacing as he would like you to think he is.”

    “…no, he’s not.” Jon replied quietly as Ramsay closed his door. He stood there for a moment gazing at Theon’s locked room. All it took to end my torment was some cruelty of my own. Even father seemed pleased when I stood up for myself. He walked down the hall to his own chambers. I’m sure he won't stay quiet for long, but it's as Ramsay said: I know how to shut him up now. That night Jon had one of the best nights of sleep he’d had since Theon arrived at Winterfell. Theon on the other hand had one of his worst.

    Theon was late to the dining hall the next morning. When he did finally slink in he had bags under his eyes and his hair stuck out in all directions. Ramsay had been one of the first to arrive, he liked to take his time eating. He had been slightly surprised when Jon sat next to him when he arrived. Jon had quietly started a conversation with him about sword skills and they had been talking for most of the meal. Ramsay had not expected them to have much in common. He had heard before he came to Winterfell that Ned’s bastard was a gloomy boy of few words. It seemed he only fit that description when Theon near.

    They had both paused in their conversation when Theon sat at the table a few seats down. Theon glanced at them, but as soon as he met Ramsay’s eyes he looked away. He knows that what he did was naughty last night. Look at him, trying to pretend like he isn’t scared shitless, adorable.

    Theon turned and immediately struck up a conversation with Arya about archery. Trying to distract yourself? That's fine, I’ll let you have a quiet breakfast, you can make it up to me when we sparr. Ramsay started his conversation with Jon again. From across the table Theon let out a small sigh of relief.

    They were practicing archery today. Ramsay was disappointed he didn’t get to beat Theon with one of the heavy metal training swords, but he figured he could hurt him just as much with words.

    “Is this the only form of fighting you’re good at?” Ramsay asked him after Theon hit another bullseye. “It makes sense, it is the only weapon a girl would have a chance at being any good at after all.” He finished with a chuckle. Truthfully he was impressed with Theon’s skill. He had heard that he was talented, but it was fairly remarkable. So of course he had to make fun of him for it.

    Theon glared at him and knocked another arrow. Ramsay's cruel smirk grew as Theon started to turn pink.

    “Now Ramsay, archery is a valuable skill to have.” Robb said in a kind and diplomatic tone. Theon grew more pink. He knew Robb was trying to help, but each time he defended Theon it made him feel even more weak.

    “Of course Robb. I enjoy the bow and arrow myself. Here Theon, let me have a go.” He stepped up and grabbed Theon’s bow out of his hands, pushing him to the side with his body.

    “Hey! Give that back!” Theon made to snatch the bow back but Ramsay lifted it over his head. Ramsay was taller than him by a few inches so his bow was well out of reach in Ramsay’s raised arm.

    “I just want to lose one or two arrows, you can have it back in a moment.” He replied, pushing Theon off with his other arm. He knew Theon was smaller than him but he was a little surprised by how light he was. 

    Theon looked to Robb, asking him silently for help. Robb just stared at the new ward with shock. This was not how young lords acted. Even if he was a bastard, he was heir to the Dreadfort, he should be more civilized. This was far beyond his political skills.

    Ramsay smirked as Theon gave up and took a step back. That's right little Theon, Robb won't protect you. Just let me do what I want and it will be much easier for you. He knocked an arrow and raised the bow. It was a little too small for him, but he could make do. The other three boys were impressed when he buried two arrows into the bullseye. Not as centered as Theon’s but still a good shot. Ramsay smirked and tossed the bow back to Theon, it hit him in the chest and he nearly dropped it. Theon glared harder at him, his hatred growing more by the minute.

    “Boys!” Old Nan called from the doorway of the keep. “Something came up and Maester Luwin won't be able to teach you today. Lord Stark says you all should ride the fence lines and make sure none of them are damaged.” 

    “Alright Old Nan!” Robb answered, a grin spreading on his face, full of excited anticipation. “Let’s go get the horses ready.”

    Ramsay watched the back of Theon on his horse. He had to admit that he was a good rider. His horse certainly liked him. Ramsay was a strong believer that animals could tell if you were a good person or not. He figured that he was one of the few exceptions, for whatever reason animals loved him. 

    Robb was talking to Theon about something his stupid younger brother had done, not that Ramsay cared. He was irritated that he couldn’t ride next to Theon and tease him some more. Robb and his flea bitten gray stallion took up too much space. But he was content enough to stay back and watch Theon’s hips sway and rock with his horse's movements. 

    “How’s your horse settling in?” Ramsay pulled his eyes away from the islanders moving spine to look at Jon. He was riding next to Ramsay on his own dark bay mare. Ramsay could tell that Jon was trying to make friends with him. He didn’t mind, they had a few things in common already. 

    “He’s fine. He was a little lame from when we rode here, but he's better now.” Ramsay reached down and gave a pat to Blood’s neck. He smirked and raised his voice so that Theon and Robb could hear him. “Not that the trip was hard or anything, it was almost too hot.” His smirk grew when he saw how Theon stiffened at his sentence. 

    Robb glanced over his shoulder at Ramsay then looked back to Theon, confused. The change in Theon’s demeanor was obvious. He opened his mouth to say something (probably a stupid and honorable question about his feelings) when he was distracted by Ghost and Gray Wind barking excitedly, their tails wagging in big circles. They had come to the fence and the two wolves knew what came next.

    “Ok, this is the first one my father wanted us to check. It’s a pretty big pasture but the ground is good and we can canter alongside it. There’s also a stream at the back we can stop at to water the horses.” Theon and Jon both smiled and nodded at Robb’s words. Ramsay rolled his eyes. Robb is such a little lord, it’s insufferable. “Ok, let's go!” With an excited whoop he galloped off. Theon followed right after laughing. Blood took the hint and went after the two. Ramsay was caught off guard by the sudden speed and fell back in the saddle, but quickly corrected himself. The two wolves barked happily and sprinted along with the horses. Ramsay heard Jon right behind him, urging his horse on. 

    He couldn’t help it, he smiled. It was fun just getting to gallop around on his horse, chasing after the other two and trying to keep ahead of Jon. Of course the view of Theon standing up in his saddle and bent forward over his horse's neck was much appreciated. He got to watch the boy's slender thighs work to keep him balanced as his ass came down to touch the saddle with each stride his horse took.

    The last thing any of them were paying attention to was the state of the fence line they were riding. Ned knew that though. He had seen the tension in between the two wards and his bastard. Robb even had come to him asking for advice about what to do if ‘two of the kitchen maids weren’t getting along’ and how he could make them ‘like each other and see they weren’t so different’. That was why he had told Luwin to make up some excuse for the boys to have the rest of the day off, and had Old Nan tell them to check the fences. He knew it was just a way for them to have some fun and blow off steam. If he had given the boys free rein to do whatever they wanted, he was sure it would end with a fight of some sort. So he chose to force them to have fun instead. 

    The horses were at full tilt now. Their ears pinned back and breath huffing out with each stride. Blood was bred for hunting, that meant cantering smoothly after an animal and jumping over fallen logs and ditches in the forest. Speed was not his strong suit. Still Ramsay urged him on, trying to catch up to the other two. Jon’s mare had closed the distance between her and Blood, they were now neck in neck. Ahead of him he could see Theon and Smiler pulling away. The little shits fast. Ramsay heard Jon laugh next to him as Robb let out a squawk of surprise. 

    The stream, the unspoken finish line, was just over a hill now. All four boys legged their mounts to go faster. Jon’s drak mare pulled away and overtook Robb as his stallion fell further back. Ramsay was able to get a little more speed from Blood at the last few strides and ended neck in neck with Robb. Theon had beat them all by at least seven lengths. 

    Once their horses were stopped they all hopped off. Their hair was wild and swept back from the wind, cheeks flushed from the excitement and breath coming hard. Ghost and Grey Wind panting happily, wagging their tails and circled the group, ready to run again 

    “Lord Theon Greyjoy, expert horseman and master of speed, wins again!” Theon called excitedly, his hands in the air and spinning around in celebration. 

    “That's only because you got a head start!” Robb said with a smile.

    “You rode off before he did, you lier!” Jon exclaimed, punching his shoulder playfully. “Next time Rhis and I are going to take your title, Theon!” 

    “I’d like to see you try, Snow!” As Theon said the bastard's last name they all fell quiet, except for Robb. He was still laughing and smiling, oblivious to the stressed look Theon was giving Ramsay and Jon as he pet his horse. Theon hadn’t meant it in a mean way, it had just slipped out!

    “Do any of the horses need water?” Robb asked. “If not, let's keep going. There are three other fences for us to check. That means three chances for one of us to beat Theon and Smiler!” 

    In the end Theon won all but the last. Jon won the last, though he didn’t have half the celebration as Theon did. Back in the stables, their horses all groomed and at home in their stalls. Robb had run off, his mother wanted him to have some tea with her. The other three were just finishing putting their tack away.

    “You and your mare are pretty fast.” Ramsay said, looking at Jon as he put his saddle on its stand. “Her names Rhis, right?”

    “Yeah, and thanks. You kept up pretty well yourself.” Jon replied, with a slight smile. Ramsay grinned back and thanked him. In a heartbeat his expression turned malicious and he raised his voice a little, to be sure that Theon could hear them from where he was putting away his girth and bridle.

    “You know, I heard from one of the girls I used to fuck, that riding a cock feels like riding a horse. She said that the way you have to move your hips is like being in the saddle.” He turned to Theon. “Theon, as you have ridden both extensively, would you agree?”

    Theon blinked, looking at him dumbly. Then his whole face turned red.

    “I-I’ve never…what do yo-…you’re-you’re disgusting.” Theon spluttered at him. He glanced at Jon embarrassed, fumbling for something to say. It had been one thing when Ramsay had sexually harassed him when they were alone, no one could see his emasculation and degradation then. But now with Jon staring open mouthed at them he had to do something. 

    “You are a low-born, perverted bastard, Ramsay Snow. If this is how you acted at home I can see why your father sent you away.” Theon tried to put as much lordly confidence into his voice as he could. It still shook as he insulted Ramsay though. 

    Ramsay went quiet and still, and Theon let himself be proud for a moment. Had he finally gotten the asshole to shut up? That pride was quickly shattered as Ramsay lunged at him. He grabbed his shoulder and sent his fist flying into Theon’s gut. Theon gasped and went to crumple to the ground but Ramsay grabbed his doublet collar and held him up. He snarled his face. 

    “I thought I told you never to call me that?” He connected his fist into Theon’s stomach again. “I hate repeating myself. I know you’re not very bright so I'm going to tell you one more time. Don’t. Ever. Call. Me. A. Bastard. ” He punctuated each word with a punch in the stomach. Ramsay released his grip, letting him drop after the last blow. He drew back leg and drove it into his side. Theon let out a ompf, and curled in on himself.

    Ramsay left him like that; In a ball on the ground with Jon staring, shocked by what just happened. 

    Jon came back to himself, and took a small step forward, reaching out a hand to place on Theons back. 

    “don’t touch me, bastard .” Jon stopped when he heard Theon’s voice, small, pained and full of anger. “You are just as bad as he is. No , even worse.” He looked up at him, tears in the corners of his eyes and face full of hate. “At least he is an heir. You have nothing, you are nothing. And I would rather take a thousand beatings from Ramsay Snow of house fucking Bolton, than take help from a pathetic, unloved, gloomy whore’s son like you .” 

    Jon froze in place.

    He was going to ask if Theon was ok. He had an apology on the tip of his tongue for not stepping in sooner and stopping Ramsay. He was about to say that they should go find Ned and tell him what happened. Say that this was too much and Ramsay had gone too far. That Theon didn’t deserve to be treated like this. This boy, who had made his life a living hell at every opportunity for the last nine years, was in the dirt crying and telling him that he was nothing. 

    Jon straightened back up, pulled his foot back and kicked the dirt of the tack room floor into Theon’s face. Then he turned and walked out.

Chapter Text

    Theon hit the ground hard. The crowd gathered around the sparring boys cringed. Ramsay laughed from the sidelines. Jon swung his sword in an arch over his head and buried the pointy next to Theon’s ear in the dirt. 

    Theon looked up at Jon, panting and winded. He couldn’t think of a witty response to his latest defeat. He had not been saying anything witty to Jon recently at all. As of late, each time he teased Jon the bastard responded with something even crueler. Theon, now, didn’t want to say anything mean to Jon at all. Not because he wanted to be nice, but because the mean words he got in return hurt too much.

    Jon never did anything physical to Theon, other than in sparring, which he had gotten even better at recently. Ramsay on the other hand was a different story. The new ward had taken to pushing him, bumping into him with his shoulder in passing, roughly tousling him on the head, and snatching things out of his hands to hold them over his head. All things that made Theon feel like he was living with his brothers again. 

    “You ok Theon?” Robb asked as he offered his hand to help him up. Jon used to offer to help Theon up after sparring matches (of course he never used to take it). He had stopped doing that. 

    “Yeah…he just caught me off guard.” Theon responded, using Robbs help to hoist himself up.

    “It seems that he has been doing that more and more. Are you sure that you are feeling alright?” Robb was right of course. Jon and Ramsay had been spending a lot of their free time together practicing their sword skills. As a result Theon didn’t have the opportunity to practice himself. He refused to be alone with either of them, even in the open training yard. So as Ramsay and Jon got even better at fighting, Theon got worse.

    “Yes, I’m fine…thanks Robb.” 

    “Ramsay and Robb, you two are up next! Theon, you go practice attacking movements on one of the straw men. Jon you go with Theon and give him some pointers… gods know he needs it.” Ser Rodrick added the last bit under his breath, everyone present still heard him. As those gathered snickered quietly Theon felt the blood rush in his face. That had been happening to him more often, being laughed at and blushing.

    Theon glanced sideways at Jon as he started to swing at the dummy. This had been occurring more frequently as well: being sent off with one of the other boys for more practice. Theon was glad that it wasn’t Ramsay this time. 

    “…you’re stepping too far out when you swing.” Jon coached him, arms crossed and his feet apart. Confident in his stance and himself.

    “Understood… bastard.” Theon added the last bit quietly, hoping he wouldn’t hear it. He knew that if he was nice to Jon he would be treated the same way by him. But that was something that ‘little Theon’, the Theon that never left the Iron Island, would do. He had been tempted to act like him more and more. Of course ‘little Theon’ was actually a nice person, but that person had abysmal self esteem, was scared of conflict, and needed someone to take care of him. So he kept acting like ‘Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands’, when he thought he could get away with it. 

    “I may be a bastard but at least I know how to fight.” Jon snapped at him. He had not said his insult quietly enough.

    “Give me a bow and I can show you how to fight!” Theon threw down the training sword and took a step towards Jon, chest puffed out and fists clenched. 

    Jon uncrossed his arms and, matching Theon’s posture, took his own step forward. Immediately, all the fight was sent out of him. His face and abdomen were still healing from Ramsay; bruises covering most of his left cheek and all of his stomach, split lip, a cut on his eyebrow and what was surely a mild concussion were still lingering. He had got those from Ramsay though, not Jon. All he had gotten from Jon was a face full of dirt.

    He was shocked when Jon went to match his aggression. Jon had never been the type to do so. The one time in the woods had been an exception. He knew that he would lose to Jon in a fight. Hell, with how he was feeling he wasn’t sure if he would be able to beat Rickon in a fight, and he was six. Luckily for his pride Jon didn’t take another step and he was able to turn back to his discarded sword and take up his stance again.

    Theon went through his movement’s again, he had only done about four rounds of them and he was already getting tied. 

    “You're too loose in your arms after you swing, you need to tighten your core.” Jon had stepped back and was coaching him again. He was surprised with how easy it was to stand up to Theon after the first time. He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to do so in the first place. 

    Theon took a downward swing and nearly lost his footing. He was on his seventh round by now and his arms were shaking with exhaustion. Even though it had only been a few days since he had stopped his extra practicing, he was already starting to lose muscle and strength. 

    “Well struck Ramsay. Ok, that's enough for today!” Ser Rodrick called after Ramsay knocked Robb out of the ring with a strong swipe at his left hand. “Leave the weapons out, the guards are training next. You boys go to maester Luwin for your lessons.” 

    “You look awfully tired, Theon. Was that straw man too much for you?” Ramsay’s ice eyes sparkled over his cruel grin. Robb was talking to Jon about their direwolves up ahead, leaving him behind with Ramsay. Ramsay made sure that his obvious bullying wasn’t done in front of any Starks, especially Robb. 

    Theon clenched his jaw and kept his eyes forward. 

    “What, nothing to say? I had heard that Theon Greyjoy never took a slight lying down.” Ramsay swung his arm over Theon’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Or was all it took a few beatings and some nasty truths to put the young lord in his place?” Theon shoved at the broad chest and pulled away, anger filling him.

    “Don’t touch me, Snow. Just because I’ve been nice to you these past few days doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. There’s nothing a vulgar low-born like you could say that would affect me.” Theon hissed, defiance in his eyes. It took most of his courage to keep his face and voice steady as he said this. Especially when Ramsay's expression went from mirthful to dark irritation and anger. Theon knew how sensitive Ramsay was about his bastard status, he used it as ammunition, knowing that having Robb close by would keep the bastard in check. 

    Unfortunately, he had miscalculated Robb and Jon’s pace. As he glanced in their direction and saw that they had rounded the corner and were now out of sight, Ramsay saw the same thing. He smirked and grabbed Theon by the shoulder, shoving him against the wall. He pinned the thrashing boy there, his other forearm across his neck. Ramsay's body pressed flush against Theon’s, his knee between Theon’s legs. He leaned in and whispered in his ear, enjoying the way Theon twitched and then stilled.

    “It’s like you’re asking me to punish you. Is that your goal? Get me so angry I hold you down and show you what a vulgar bastard I am?” He lowered his head, mouth now at his neck. Theon shivered as he felt Ramsay's lips brush against his skin. “You only needed to ask, sweetling. I would be more than happy to show you.” 

    “ramsay, st-stop” Theon was shaking now. He had planned that the next time Ramsay tried anything with him again, he was going to kick the bastard’s ass. Instead he found his crotch tingling, breathing getting faster, and fear coursing  through his veins. 

    “Ramsay! Theon! Come on, we’re about to start!” Robb’s voice came to them from around the corner in Maester Luwin’s study. He felt Ramsay smile against his neck.

    “Lucky girl.” He pulled back and continued on his way to the study. Theon was left standing there, against the wall, trembling, with a tent in his pants. He looked down at himself, stunned by what had just happened and his body’s reaction.

    What’s wrong with me? I know he’s handsome…and tall…and muscular… and he can fight… but still!! … I must just be horny, I haven’t gone to the brothel in nearly a fortnight. I’ll go to see Ros after lessons. I’m sure a good fuck will get my mind right.

    Still trembling, he readjusted his shift so it covered his bulge, pushed off the wall, walked down the hall and into the room. He hoped his blush and erection would fade quickly, they did not.

    “It was so awkward Smiler, you have no idea. I had to sit through Luwin’s whole lesson with my cock hard. Luckily I don’t think anyone noticed.” Theon told his horse as they rode through the woods to the brothel. Unbeknownst to him, both Ramsay, Jon, and maester Luwin had noticed. It was only Ramsay that knew what had caused it. 

    “That's why I thought it was about time we visited our favorite lady. I’m sure she missed me.” Unfortunately for Theon’s ego that was not the case. She had a new customer as of late, a young lord with black hair and ice eyes. 

    “I haven’t been able to go see her recently, with being hurt and… dealing with Ramsay. It seems that all I can do is give him more reasons to tease me. He’s the same as my brothers were. Always finding something to pick on me about. At least with them, they weren’t allowed to hate me. They were my brothers after all, so even if they didn’t say it, I knew they loved me.” At least he hoped they loved him.

    He sighed, dropping his eyes to the forest floor and Smiler's hooves under him. Thinking about his brothers always made his self worth plummet. Thinking about Ramsay did the same. He picked his gaze up, shaking his head. Forcing himself to put more energy into his voice, changing the subject away from his family.

    “Just being around Ramsay makes me feel horrible. I really can’t stomach any more of him. It’s just like being back on Pyke with Rodrick and Maron…and father. I know you never met any of them but, believe me when I tell you they were…” he trailed off, thinking back. I can’t say that they were awful, they're my family. But it certainly wasn’t a home like the Starks have. I still love them. I’m sure that they love me…even though mother was the only one to ever say it.

    “They were…different.” Theon sighed, giving up on putting into words his complicated family dynamic. “Ramsay does the same pig headed shit that my brothers did! I wish he would tell me what I did wrong so we could just be friends. I didn’t start any of our arguments, honest! He just hates me…i wish he wouldn’t.” His thoughts were going into dark places. Places where he kept his self worth, and where ‘little Theon’ stayed. 

    “when i was back home i always had mother and yara. now even robb is too busy to spend any time with me… ever since ramsay came i feel so…small.” And alone, and pathetic, and stupid, and weak, just a waste of fucking space. 

    The only thing to answer his spiraling thoughts was the soft breath of Smiler and even softer breath of the forest. He looked up at the sky, dark and vast, with its countless stars. Starts with the same ghostly light as eyes the color of ice. A breeze pulled through the fabric of his shift and doublet, he shivered.

    “Come on, Smiler.” He picked up a trot. He was not going to wander down those dark paths now.

    Theon tied Smiler to the post and walked up the stairs to the brothel, a skip in his step. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed being here. The women would flock to him, vying for his attention. To be the only one these women would worry about, the center of their small universe, the one person that mattered. He loved it all. And getting to fuck any women he wanted (and could pay for) was a nice perk too.

    As he opened the doors and walked into the dimly lit building he nearly collided with one of the whores. 

    “Trying to get on my cock already?” He asked, laughing. When he looked at who he had almost flattened, he recognized the face. It was the stupid little whore who had the audacity to ask about his family. He remembered how incredibly ignorant and idiotic she had been. She had compared his situation to Ramsays! He opened his mouth to insult her, probably about her large forehead or too close eyes, when she spoke.

    “Lord Greyjoy? What are you doing here?” She looked confused, and more nervous as each word left her mouth.

    “What am I doing here?” He repeated her question with a snort. This girl really is dull. “Well I certainly didn’t come here for lessons in politics. Do you need a refresher on what happens in brothels?” He looked at her condescendingly, a smirk on his face. I’m sure Ros wouldn’t mind too much if this one joined us tonight.

    “No, I don’t.” Her expression turned stern. “I think you should go speak with the owner. Stay here and I’ll fetch him.” She walked away, not giving him a chance to ask anymore questions.

    Theon shrugged and sat down at one of the many tables in the main room. He tried to catch the eye of the serving girl, but she kept her gaze far away from him. That was not usual; She would always come up to him first chance she got, but today she was out right avoiding him. What’s wrong with her? She never fails to jump on my cock at the first opportunity. I’m not dressed strangely or anything… am I? He looked down, assessing his clothes. It was similar to what he always wore, there were no real differences that he could think of from his usual attire.

    A head of red hair caught his eye, it was Ros. She was turning her head away from him, as if she had seen him but wished to pretend she hadn’t. Theon stood up and approached her quickly, anxiety building in his chest.

    “Ros, haven’t seen you in a while. How are you? Much more boring here without me I’m sure.” He said with his most confident voice, his shit eating grin in place. How his tone wavered slightly and his brows gathered was lost on no one.

    “…Oh, Theon. You’re here.” She turned to him slowly, nervousness in her voice.

    “Yeah, it has been busy at Winterfell…with the new ward and all.” He shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his neck. why isn’t she happy to see me? why is no one happy to see me?

    “Lord Greyjoy.” His thought was interrupted by the brothel keeper calling his name. “Can I have a word with you…in the back, m’lord?” The man looked positively frightened. 

    “…of course.” Theon had never seen the rotund man look so worried in all the years he had known him. what’s going on?

    The keeper took a moment to close the door to the kitchen once they had entered. Strips of stained linen wrapped around several of his fingers, hindering their movement. He glanced about the main room one more time before it was blocked from view, as if making sure someone wasn’t there. 

    “You can't come here anymore.” The man whorled around his face giving way from fear to cold anger. Theon took a step back, surprised. He was one of this man's best customers. 

    “w-what?” Theon cursed himself for the tremor in his voice.

    “I said you aren’t allowed in this place anymore!” The keeper stepped up close to him, practically nose to nose. “I never want to see your silly little squid sigil under my roof again.” He flicked his hand to the kraken embroidered on his chest. 

“You’re not welcome here, I’m sick of putting up with your cockiness and vanity. All the girls are too. None of us can stomach being around you any longer!” Theon was silent. He had no idea what to do. This was his second worst nightmare come true (first was being decapitated by Ned Stark). Being rejected and scorned, Theon would rather have his teeth pulled out.

    “Now, when I open this door you are going to walk straight out, get on your horse, and ride away.” The man hissed into his face. “And if I find out that you try to talk to any of my girls again, in this building or out, I’ll skin you alive.” He opened the door and gave a hard shove to Theons back, sending him stumbling forward. Catching himself on one of the tables, he froze, shocked. He was shoved again by the keeper.

    “Get out! We’ve had enough of you!” Theon was pushed and shoved all the way out of the brothel. He could feel the eyes of all those present on him. His face burned. He met the eyes of Ros, sitting on the lap of a customer with her arm around his shoulders, and his face grew hotter. 

    It was almost a relief when the cool night air hit his burning skin. He was given one last shove and he tumbled down the front steps and into the street. The door slammed closed behind him. 

    Ros turned back to the customer she was currently working on. She gave him a smile and continued their conversation. She would have liked to say she felt bad for Theon, but would be false. She had been forced to deal with his over inflated sense of self worth and delicate ego for far too long. That being said she knew how sensitive he was; being banned from the brothel like this would do quite a bit of damage to his mental state. 

    It was a strange turn of events that had caused Theon to be kept out at all, a turn she still didn’t quite fully understand yet herself. It had begun with a new customer. He had asked her all sorts of questions about Theon. She had thought it was strange, but then again this new customer was strange himself. He was about the same age as Theon, maybe a year older, and claimed to be of the same rank. Lord Ramsay had ink black hair and frost blue eyes that set him apart from the other patrons. Once she got to know him she knew it was not just his looks that were different. He had a darkness about him, a ripple just below the surface that made her cautious of him. She was right to be careful.

    She remembered how confused she had been when Ramsay pulled the brothel owner into one of the back rooms for a ‘business matter’. Her boss had come out 20 minutes later with a black eye and two broken fingers. That was when he said that they would no longer be serving Theon Greyjoy. Ros felt no particular loss at this news. Ramsay actually had a slightly bigger cock than Theon and he paid just as well. 

    She knew enough about this new lord to not ask any questions. Each time she thought back it seemed stranger and stranger. It was only when she had heard about the change in dynamics at Winterfell that she understood. She had been right to be cautious of Ramsay.

Chapter Text

    Theon sniffled as he closed the stable door. He had cried the whole ride back to Winterfell, only starting to settle as he untacked Smiler. He spent a time just cuddling with the horse, steadying his breathing. Being rejected as he had just been was one of his worst ‘downward spiral thoughts’ come true. He could barely comprehend what had happened. 

     His mind was a muddled storm as he trudged the back corridors towards his chamber. did they… always feel that way about me? maybe…it didn’t start out that way and i did something to upset them. should i go back and apologize? say i’m sorry and ask for them to let me back in?

   His thoughts were interrupted when a mirthful voice floated to him through an open doorway just ahead. Even though the new ward had been here for not even a fortnight, Theon could not mistake his voice. 

    “Anything I want, she’ll do. Last time I went she let me put it up her ass.” Theon froze. He quietly pressed himself against the wall next to the threshold, tilting his head towards Ramsay's voice from within one of the guards quarters. Theon had taken the back passages of Winterfell in hopes of avoiding the bastard. What Ramsay was doing down here or who he was talking to, he did not know.

    “Really? I heard that it hurts like getting ripped in two, doing that.” The voice that answered was deep, accented as a commoner from the country.

    “It doesn’t hurt, less you do the right things beforehand. Just shows how little you know, Damon.” A second voice answered, snickering along with Ramsay. It  belonged to someone older but of the same low born status as the first.

    “Skinner’s right.” Ramsay commented. Just hearing the ring of his cruel laughter was enough to make Theon stiffen. “Even men can take it up the ass and like it.”

    “And this whore, she liked it?” Damon asked, incredulous. 

    “She likes whatever I do to her. But to answer your question, yes, she fucking loved it.” The men chuckled along with Ramsay. 

    “What did you say her name was? I might want to go try her myself.” That was Skinner asking.

    “I doubt you can afford her, I know the Starks like to keep your wages low. But if you happen to scrape together enough money, her name’s Ros.” Theon’s heart stopped. ramsay knows ros? ramsay has fucked ros? i-is he the reason they…don’t need me anymore? 

    “Wait wait wait, Ramsay, you said that even a man can enjoy getting fucked up the ass?” Damon cut in, completely unbelieving. 

    “It’s true, I've met a few who would rather be plowed than do the plowing. Hell, I've plowed some of them myself.” Ramsay responded, casually. did he admit to fucking a man… just like that? he’s… not ashamed?

    “It’s true, you prepare a man's hole right and they love it. They say it feels like heaven too, as long as you have something to ease the way.” Skinner added.

    “It just seems easier to me to find a cunt to stick it in. I mean-“ Damon's voice faded behind him as turned back the way he came, rushing down the hall. 

    His face was red hot and full of blood. It was a wonder his body had enough of the stuff to keep his heart pumping, cheeks blushing, and cock hard in his breeches all at the same time. Hearing Ramsay speak so calmly about something Theon would only attempt in his dreams sent his mind reeling. The confirmation that Ramsay does what Theon fantasies about him doing had his cock straining against its confines. The possibility that Ramsay would fuck him in the waking world, however slim, was enough to make him nearly cum in his breeches.

    He ran as fast as he could to his chambers, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He looked tentatively down at the bulge in his breeches. Raising his hands to hover over it, fingers trembling. He stayed that way for a while. He was still much too distraught over being rejected by everyone in the brothel to even think about solving this problem. He decided to just go to sleep, simply face everything in the morning… or just ignore it until it went away. He stripped to just his shift and climbed into his bed. The covers not touching his upper thighs, but making a tent instead.  Theon fell asleep quickly, considering all the anxiety in him. One good thing Ramsay being here had taught Theon was how to sleep while ignoring a problem.  

    He snapped awake from his foggy dream. Something unknown had roused him from his sleep. What happened? Was I dreaming? He had been too deep in his dream to know what had woken him. He thought it might have been a clatter, but if it came from the waking world or not he couldn’t tell. 

    Shifting in bed, trying to get comfortable again, he inhaled sharply when he felt the friction of the sheets on his hard cock. The dream that he had left was similar to the one he had in Smiler’s pasture. It was made of sweat and moans, gasps of pleasure and calloused hands holding him down. That was all he knew of the dream though. It was the kind that dissolved as soon as one woke, washed away like prints in the sand at high tide. All he knew was that his cock was aching even worse and if he had continued with his dream he would have found his release under the gaze of ice eyes.

    All it takes is hearing one conversation about taking it up the ass and I can barely contain myself. He rolled onto his back and pulled his knees up, creating a space where his cock could stand free without the touch of fabric. Might as well take care of this. He sighed as he started to work himself in his hand. 

    Beginning slowly, the up and down motion of his hand shifted the skin along with it, the head of his cock being exposed and then hidden with each pump. 

    He kept his movements going for a while, waiting for the familiar warmth to build in the pit of his stomach. He continued…and continued. By the Drowned God, what’s wrong now? Am I touching a piece of stone? Why aren’t I feeling a thing? He reached his other hand down to grab his sack, rolling it in his palm and tiling his hips up…. still nothing. 

    He worked his balls harder, grinding the heel of his hand against them. As he did so his fingers brushed the edge of his hole. All his movements ceased. … ramsay had said it like it was normal. l-like it wasn’t something strange and unnatural. Theon slowly started to move again. 

    He left his prick and brought his hand to grab his sack and lift, giving him better access to his now clenched ring. He started to rub a finger across his pucker. He pulled his hand away, popped his finger into his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, coating it in spit. He brought the slick digit back to his hole, now slightly less tight.

    It was not as easy as he had expected. In his dreams the fingers and cocks always went in without a fight, it was not the case in real life. He worked the tip of his pointer finger into himself, wiggling it back and forth slightly as he did so. He found that after the ring of muscle at the entrance, it was much easier to go deeper. He continued to push, thankful that he had got his finger thoroughly wet beforehand.

    Once he was as deep as he could go, his base knuckle halfway in him, he paused. I thought it would feel… better. It really just feels like pressure. Maybe if I start to move? He began to pull his finger out of himself, as he did so he let out a sigh. It was a strange feeling, but certainly not painful like that Damon man had said it would be. He kept working his finger in and out of himself. His breath becoming heavier as sweat formed on his brow. i think…i want something thicker. He blushed at his own thoughts, but did not stop. 

    Rolling over to the small drawer he had by his bed, he picked up the vile kept on top of it. He rolled back and uncorked it with his teeth. Brought the vile down and poured some on his hole, currently stretched around his middle knuckle. The primrose oil trickled out and coated his finger and rim. He always kept some at his bedside, it was what he put behind his ears and on his wrists every day. It was what Ramsay had smelled on him his first day he was here and every day after. The scent reminded him of the gardens back home on Pyke. But his rocky home was the last thing on his mind at the moment. 

    He nudged his middle finger against the rim of his hole. It went in much easier with the help of the oil. He still took his time working the second finger into himself. When he had both digits fully inside himself he couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. Feeling liberated and a tingling warmth growing in his belly at finally doing something he had been fantasizing about for years.

    Pulling his fingers out he curled them up as he did so. The girls always liked when he did this to their cunts, so why not try it on his? That got a proper groan out of him. It felt like he was pushing on the back of his cock. Continuing to work his fingers in and out of himself he picked up speed. He was feeling more comfortable already… he did always have a knack for physical pleasures. 

    It was when he added the third finger that he really felt the stretch.

    “unh…f-fuck” His moan was accompanied by the wet squish of skin against skin, along with a decent amount of primrose oil.

    Pumping his fingers faster he took hold of his cock again. It had not faltered in its hardness during the time he was ignoring it, paying attention to his ass instead. The added sensation was exactly what he was looking for.

    “shit!…aah” He pumped both his hands, getting faster and faster. He felt the heat build up in his stomach, and a tingling stat to spread from his hole. As his balls started to tighten up he slammed his fingers as deep as he could into his ass. The tip of his middle finger, the deepest part of his hand, brushed up against something in him as he did so. It sent sparks off behind his eyes and electricity through his whole body. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was cumming onto his stomach. Every muscle shook and his mouth drooped open as he let out a cry of pleasure. 

    What..was that? His thoughts were tired as he slowly pulled his fingers free of his still spasming hole. He was not able to answer his own question though. He was back asleep, deeper than before, in the next second. He had no dreams this time, other than being covered in jam and left out to dry in the sun.

    Ramsay stood up from where he had crouched by the fireplace, cock hard in his breeches again.  He hadn't expected tossing his knife onto the desk to make so much noise, but he was glad it did. He knew from the first time he had met the boy that Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Island, would like to get fucked up the ass. Hearing him gasp and moan, slick squishing sounds and all, was proof enough that he was right. The little whore must not know that you can hear into the next room quite well through a joining fireplaces. 

    He had been in a bit of a sour mood before. The girl that he, Damon and Skinner just got done raping had been a bit of a disappointment. She had put up a good fight the first round; even left some scratches on his arms and chest. But after they each had their first go she had gone limp. She hadn't even screamed much at all.

    He was sure Theon wouldn’t disappoint him the same way.

    He’d been having day dreams about holding the islander down, fucking into him, and making him into crying, trembling mess since he arrived at Winterfell. Those imaginings had grown more frequent over the last few days. As Theon quieted down and became more subdued it made Ramsay want to fuck him even worse. This just confirmed his thoughts that Theon would be a lovely way to spend his time. Ramsay wouldn’t have to pick a girl off the street whenever he didn’t feel like paying for it anymore. Hell, he could even let Damon and Skinner have a go at him once he was a little broken in. They had been nice enough to come with him from the Dreadfort. Even getting hired by the Starks as guards unbeknown of their true house loyalty.

    He smirked as he flopped onto his bed. He was already getting ideas as to fun games he could play with the little lord. When he pitched his knife (the one he held to her throat when they pulled her into the deserted alley) onto his desk, he had been upset about the lack of fun tonight’s girl had given him. Who would have guessed it would lead to him finding a much more entertaining toy?

Chapter Text

    Robb landed in the pool with a splash. Jon, already in the water, let out a shout of indignation as he was met in the face with the water sent flying. Ramsay, bare from the waist up and currently working on the laces of his boots, laughed at Jon’s misfortune. Theon just watched from the dry edge, still fully dressed, shifting slightly from foot to foot nervously.

    He was still sporting black and blue marks on his stomach from Ramsay. Robb had already seen them (and nearly dragged him to the bloody Citadel to be treated), but Ramsay and Jon had yet to. Theon had told Robb it was from sparring, he had taken enough beatings recently that it was believable. 

    Something about Ramsay seeing the damage he caused made Theon’s skin crawl. He had felt the bastards gaze on him practically all morning. The few times Theon had locked eyes with him there had been a hunger in the gaze that set alarm bells off. The thought of stripping bare in front of him now was not appealing.

    “Come on Theon!” Robb called, floating neck deep in the spring. Theon still hesitated, casting a glance at Ramsay. Of course Ramsay was watching him intently, his eyes blazing. “Are you worried that it's too cold? No reason to, the water is practically boiling!” Robb had been the one to suggest all of them go to the hot springs. He still wasn’t happy with how the three boys were getting along. Though Robb was sure it was all in his mind, it seemed as if Ramsay and Jon had been ganging up on Theon as of late. One throwing an insult and the other laughing and then adding their own; though Ramsay was usually the only one adding insults, Jon would always chuckle and smile. With the new teasing (that Robb was imagining, of course ) Theon had withdrawn into his shell, becoming quieter, and even at times shy. Those words were the last that Robb would have ever expected to describe the islander with, hell he didn’t even know Theon had a ‘shell’ to hide in. 

    Robb hoped that being in the water would make him a little more like his normal self. The last time they had gone, just the two of them, it had been like old times. That Being said, Theon never had huge black and blue marks all over his abdomen. When Theon said that it was all from sparring Robb had been unsure. While Theon had gotten much worse with his sword skill, his injuries still seemed extensive. 

    Theon watched the water longingly; he really did want to get in. To have the warm springwater ease his aces and pains sounded heavenly. Jon sighed and flipped his wet hair back with a shake and snap of his neck. Theon looked more melancholy than he had ever seen him.

    “Come on, Theon. You always used to pester us to go swimming.” Theon glowered at Jon. I always used to pester Robb to go swimming. Not you. Whenever you came it was because Robb felt bad and wanted you to come. You were never part of ‘us’. Theon would have loved to say as much to the bastard, but he knew he would receive a much crueler comment in return. 

    “Is the little prince self conscious?” Theon startled, a gasp stuck in his throat. Ramsay had moved up beside him, the sound covered by Jon’s complaining and Robb’s splashing. He was much too close for Theon’s comfort, their arms almost touching. He had to stop himself from taking a step away when Ramsay leaned even closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re all men here…even if one of us doesn’t act like it.” He whispered the last words into his ear. 

    Theon took a step away. 

    Ramsay grinned and slapped him on the back, much too hard to be friendly. He strolled over to the spring, and turned to face Theon. He spread his arms, winked and let himself fall backwards into the water with a huge splash. Robb and Jon yelled and ducked away from the shower, smiles on their faces. 

    Theon was not smiling, in fact he was currently blushing so hard he thought his face might explode. Ramsay was as naked as the day he was born, so were Robb and Jon. It was how they always swam in the springs. But none of them did anything that gave Theon a full view of their cock like Ramsay just had. 

    Did he just… wink at me? By the Drowned God… he has no shame.

    The view was similar to Theon’s dream; Ramsay was made of chiseled muscle and hard lines. He has less hair than I would have thought. Much less than Robb.  

    When Ramsay had stood beside him, he had radiated heat. His absence, although welcomed, sent a shiver down his spine.

    Theon rolled his shoulders back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. I’m not going to let that bastard win this. He won’t bully me away from one of my favorite things. 

    He began to strip.

    Ramsay stared at him as he started to unlace his doublet. Theon tried to ignore the ice gaze on him, but he was unsuccessful. Turning his back to the spring, he pulled his shift over his head and began to remove his breeches. Once fully stripped he closed his eyes again and tilted his head back. He found that he needed to do this more often; take a moment to build up his courage before doing something in front of Ramsay. Recently it was taking longer and longer to build up that courage. 

    He opened his eyes and turned, sprinting the short distance to the water. He pushed off the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, sucking in a breath of air. He hit the water and was immediately swallowed up by it. Being in the waves (though there weren’t any waves other than the ones caused by boys roughhousing) usually made him feel at home. But with Ramsay being so close to him, it felt more like a second ‘joke’ drowning was about to happen. Despite the warmth surrounding him, he shivered again.

    Theon watched from the stone ledge as Robb and Jon tossed a small ball back and forth. Ramsay was in a deeper part of the pool floating on his back. Usually Theon would be with Robb and Jon doing some activity in the water; Now he was just sitting with his knees pulled up as his chin rested on top.

    He wrapped his arms around his shins as Ramsay flipped and swam over to him. Theon watched his strong arms flex as they pulled him through the water, skin wet and reflecting the sun. He settled a short distance from Theon and spread his arms out, resting them on the rim of the pool. Despite it being his first time here, it felt as if Ramsay owned the hot springs. Theon stiffened when he felt Ramsay’s fingertips brush against his shoulder. He glanced at where Ramsay was touching him, then shifted away, just out of reach.

    “Oh, my apologies, Lord Greyjoy. I forgot how delicate you were.” Ramsay said derisively with a cruel smirk. Theon glowered and turned his head forward, sinking lower, his chin and mouth now under the water. Theon wished he could argue back, make a claim about how he was the least delicate person here. As he looked at the other body’s he knew that was not the truth.

    Ever since Ramsay had arrived, Theon’s appetite began to shrink. The anxiety and distress that Ramsay caused him made his stomach shrivel. As a result he had been losing weight, quite a bit actually. It had been just a fortnight since Ramsay's first day here, still Theon had lost muscle and gotten slimmer by a noticeable amount. Robb was hesitant to ask him about it, he knew how sensitive Theon was concerning his appearance. He feared anything that could be construed as ‘criticism’ would be a blow to the boy's self esteem. Robb was correct to be worried. 

    “You really are like a woman.” Ramsay slid closer to Theon. He put his hand on the underwater shelf, his fingertips grazing against Theon’s right buttocks, and leaned around and forward into his line of vision. Theon tried to keep his eyes and mind fixed on the game of catch, he was unsuccessful. “You’re just so slim. It looks like I could just snap your arm in half! There is no muscle there at all.” Ramsay grabbed Theon’s right arm, lifted it up out of the water and held it there. Theon let out a quiet, startled noise (almost a squeak, but of course Greyjoy’s don’t make sounds like that) and tried to pull away. Ramsay held fast.

    “Let go of me!” Theon yelled and began to try to wriggle out of his grasp. Ramsay tossed his head back and laughed.

    “This is exactly what I meant, just like a woman! Of course I mean a southern woman, even a northern bitch could put up a better fight. Hell the one I fucked last night certainly did, maybe she can be the heir to the Iron Islands!” Theon’s face turned beet red as he clenched his fist.

    “Let me go!” Theon shouted as he sent his fist into Ramsay’s mouth. His head snapped back from the blow. Ramsay's grasp finally loosened and he pulled free. Theon was standing now, the water coming to his waist, and stumbling backwards, breathing heavily. What is WRONG with this bastard!? As Ramsay pulled his head back upright Theon felt a swell of pride. He had split the bastard's lip. That pride was short-lived as Robbs voice called out from behind him.

    “Theon! What are you doing!?” Robb rushed over, grabbed his shoulder and spun him so they were face to face. “You just hit my fathers ward in the face! He is a guest of my house!” Theon looked at him dumbfounded. di-did he not see what ramsay was doing? why is he mad a-at me? 

    Robb was livid. His cheeks flushed with anger in a blush that went down his chest. He had been far too engrossed in his game of catch to notice what had happened leading up to Theon’s burst of violence. All he knew was that Theon hit Ramsay, a fellow northern lord's heir who was under his house's care, seemingly unprovoked. His fists were balled and his jaw clenched. Theon feared for a moment that Robb would strike him; but he whirled away and went to Ramsay's side where Jon already was. 

    “Are you ok Ramsay?” Robb leaned in to get a closer look at the damage Theon hands caused. “I’m sorry, Theon always takes games too far.” Theon felt white hot anger flash through his veins. A game? You think we were playing a game?! Have you been paying ANY attention at all to how this bastard has been treating me this WHOLE TIME?! 

    “We weren’t playing a game! He has been horrible to me the whole time he’s been here and you’ve been too stupid to see it!” Theon was shaking with rage, his lordly indignation back with a vengeance. “He is a rude, violent, brute who isn’t fit to be heir to a pig sty , let alone a noble house! I would rather lose my fucking fingers than play any game with this BASTARD !” Theon’s voice echoed through the woods, his last word repeating like a nail being driven into a coffin. His coffin.

    Ramsay stood up sharply. Theon took a step back, he looked like he was going to fulfill Theon’s stipend of losing some fingers. He stopped however when Robb spoke, his voice as cold as Ramsay's eyes. 

    “Theon, you will not speak to me or the ward of my house like that again. If you feel Ramsay has acted inappropriately in the time he has been here, remember what you were like when you first arrived. I feel that a bit of teasing is preferable to not being able to eat more than a mouthful and incapable of full sentences. So the next time you have criticism about how Ramsay acts, or how my house is run, keep them to yourself .” Robb stepped out of the spring, walked to his clothes and put them on without another word, or look, back at Theon. 

    Jon went to follow him but hesitated for a moment. He knew how Ramsay had been treating Theon. He knew that what Ramsay had been doing was certainly not a game. Should I say something to Robb and defend Theon… but if roles were reversed would Theon do the same for me? Of course not. He would have laughed at my pain and probably added to it. I've already been a passive observer so far, why should I start trying to protect him now? Jon went after Robb. 

    Theon was left staring down Ramsay alone in the hot spring. The split in Ramsays lip widened, a drop of blood falling into the water, as he grinned at him. All of his teeth were on display in his triumphant expression as he exited the pool. His lip dripped more blood onto his chest, it was the same color as the scratches littering his arms and pectorals. He didn’t look back at Theon as he got dressed and started down the path back to Winterfell. He wasn’t sure he would be able to leave Theon unscathed if he did look back at him now. He would have to wait a few hours before punishing the little lord. By the end of the night he would make sure Theon knew his place.

Chapter Text

    Theon pushed his face deeper into his pillow as he tried to stifle another quiet sob. It was already damp with his tears at this point. As soon as Ramsay had left the springs he had been fighting back tears. Theon had gone straight to his room once he returned, hiding from everyone he could. There was no way he was going anywhere near Robb tonight if he could help it. Robb had never taken that tone with him, even when he cut Jon’s girth so he fell off Rhis and broke his arm (which was hilarious) Robb had not been so angry. How Ramsay fooled him so well, Theon had no idea.

    Robb’s never gotten so mad at me, and because of a bastard like Ramsay too? What spell has he cast over everyone to deceive them as he has? Would any of them even believe me if I told them how horrid he is? If I did, Robb would probably just think I was attacking the ‘integrity’ of another northern house. I'm sure the bastards’ proud, having turned my best friend against me. Fine Ramsay can keep him. I don’t need him as a friend anyway.

    It was around the end of dinner when there was a knock on Theon’s door. Where the three boys' rooms were located was a low traffic area. It was a dead end after their chambers, so the only reason someone would be down this hall was to speak with one of them.

    It must be Robb. Maybe he has come to his senses and is here to apologize… I'm going to tell him what Ramsay has been doing. If I explain everything I’m sure he’ll side with me. 

    It was not Robb he found on the other side of his door. It was ice eyes blazing above a male intent smirk.

    Theon’s heart faltered and his breath caught in his throat. Is he here to get revenge for calling him a bastard? He tightened his grip on the door and did his best to steel his expression. 

    “What do you want?” His voice dripped with contempt. Ramsay stared at him, eyes roving up and down his frame, taking in his whole body. He was in just his shift and breeches, expecting to be in his room alone until tomorrow morning. Despite his lack of dress, it was not the cold that caused a shiver to rack up his spine. The hunger in Ramsay's eyes was more intense than he had ever seen it. Unease filled him. He was about to question him again when the bastard finally spoke.

    “I just wanted to tell you a few things.” Ramsay said casually as he easily shouldered past Theon into his room. The northern had a bag with him which he tossed casually onto the floor at the foot of Theon’s bed.

    “I don’t care what you have to say to me, get out!” He tried to put all his lordly authority into his command, he just sounded indignant. Ramsay was in the center of his room looking around; it was a violation of privacy Theon would not stand for. He started towards Ramsay, his fists balled, he had already punched the bastard once today, why stop there? To Theon’s surprise Ramsay raised his hands and took a step back. What, are you scared now? You should be, I’m not putting up with you any longer. 

    “Whoa, wait, I really do have something to tell you.” Theon stopped and glared at him.

    “You can tell me as you leave my chambers.” 

    “Very well.” Ramsay lowered his hands and started slowly towards the door. “At dinner tonight, Robb said some… things. It seems he is fed up with your behavior. In between the whores and fucking, the cruelty towards his half brother… and me, he is ready to wash his hands of your friendship.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Theon, gauging his reaction. He stood in the center of his room, a stricken expression on his face. “I tried to get him to give you some leeway, but I had no luck. Even lord Stark echoed his sentiments. Things about northern unity, and boys who cry wolf.” He was at the threshold now. Pausing, he placed his hand on the door. “Oh and… you should know that sound carries quite well through the fireplaces. So… you can hear into my room… and I can hear into yours.” He slammed the door shut, locked it and lunged at Theon.

    Theon stepped back, trying to get his hands up to fight, but it was no use. Ramsay was on him in a flash, grabbing him and throwing him to the floor. Once down Ramsay pinned both Theon’s hands above his head with one of his own. 

    “What are you doing!? Get off me!!” Theon shouted and began to squirm. Is he going to beat me like he did before? What does he even mean that he can hear into… Theon stilled as his eyes widened, recalling what he had done the night before. The moans he hadn’t bothered to quiet, thinking he was alone. 

    Theon still didn’t realize what was going to happen, Ramsay could tell. He was going to correct that. 

    He grabbed the hem of Theon’s shift and yanked up, exposing his flushed chest and bruised stomach. Theon froze.

    “w-what are you doing?” Ramsay smirked and hooked a finger under the waist of his breeches. 

    “You still need to ask?” Theon began to thrash.

    If Ramsay had been dissatisfied with his last rape, this one was proving to more than make up for it. The desperation and fury with which Theon began fighting had Ramsay grinning from ear to ear. He was surprised at the strength the islander suddenly found. Back in the springs Ramsay had taken the opportunity to insure he could overpower Theon; but cornered animals always found more vigor to fight with. 

    Theon bucked his hips up, trying to displace Ramsay who was straddling them. Ramsay sat his full weight down and started to work the fabric higher up Theon’s torso stopping when he got it to his wrists. When he released Theon’s hands he whipped the shift off him and tossed it to the side. As soon as Theon was free of the fabric he punched at Ramsay's face. It was not the trained fighting he had practiced for years but a panicked, terro driven attempt to stop his attacker. 

    Ramsay knew Theon would take the opportunity to lash out at him, but as before, he was caught off guard by the power Theon now possessed. The first punch connected squarely with his nose, knocking his head back, the second hook to his jaw had him halfway off the side of Theon’s prone form. Theon squirmed out from under him in a flash and kicked viciously at his side, causing him to collapse to the floor. He bolted for the door. He didn’t care if the whole of Winterfell saw him half undressed and covered in bruises, he just wanted to get to safety.

    He would run out and find Robb, hell, he would find Ned, and tell him everything that had happened. All the teasing, touching, and beatings he had been subjected to. He would get that bastard sent away and everything would go back to the way it was before.

    He was one stride from the door when an iron grip wrapped around his ankle and pulled his foot out from under him. He fell hard, his chin smashing against the wooden door and then the stone floor with a sickening crack and thwack. The bare skin of his upper body scraped painfully as Ramsay dragged him back away from the threshold, away from freedom. 

    As he was hauled back he let out a groan and coughed. Part of a bloodied tooth bounced across the floor as he did so. Once Ramsay had pulled him beside the bed he set upon him. If Theon thought Ramsay had been violent when he had beaten him before, it was nothing compared to what he did now. Blow after blow connected with his head and face, sending his skull back and rickashing off the stone. When Theon finally lifted his hands to cover his face Ramsay began to send his fists into his stomach. The first blow knocked the air out of him with an omff. Theon tried to pull his knees up and curl into the fetal position, but Ramsay sat down on his upper thighs and continued to strike him. The grin never left the bastard's face.

    Theon was sure his whole torso and face were bloody mush by now. He threw out his hands in an attempt to grab Ramsay's writs and halt the blows. Ramsay pulled out of his grasp easily and wrapped his hand around Theon’s left, gripped his pinkie and wrenched backward. The snap that filled the room was quickly covered by Theon’s screaming. 

    Ramsay let the now limp hand drop onto his chest, Theon clutched at it, gritting his teeth and groaning in pain. Ramsay grinned again as Theon stilled under him save for his trembling. 

    “Now,” he leaned down and wrapped his arms around Theon, hefting him up. “Are you going to behave or do I have to break another one of your fingers?” Ramsay asked as he dropped him onto the bed. His question was answered with a face full of Theon’s bloodied spit. He paused for a moment before wiping it away. “Fine, have it your way.” He grabbed his other pinkie and snapped. It was more painful the second time. 

    Theon's face twisted with pain as he screamed. Ramsay really did find him much cuter when in agony. 

    The feeling of his breeches being pulled down his legs, made Theon all but forget about his hands. He thrashed and scrambled at the waist of his last piece of clothing. His grip was not strong enough, the fabric ripping through his hands. A sob broke loose from his bloodied mouth as he was fully exposed to the cold air and the even colder gaze of ice-chip eyes. He slapped his hands over his crotch in an attempt to cover himself, but they were quickly snatched away and pinned together above his head.

    “My my,” Ramsay said as he looked at Theon’s cock, even limp it was still impressive. “Ros was right when she said that you were blessed here.” He reached out and grabbed Theon's soft cock, giving it a squeeze. The touch was ice cold and blazing hot at the same time. He clamped his thighs together, attempting to shield himself. Ramsays shoved his knee in between the quaking legs and pushed them open, keeping them there with his body wedged between them. Theon closed his eyes, letting out another choked sob.

    He wanted to fight, to kick Ramsay off of him and push him from the tallest ramparts of Winterfell. Terrified, hurt, and exhausted, there was not much strength he could muster. His face and mouth throbbed, his stomach felt pulverized, and his fingers pulsed with agony; but worst was his heart. He knew what was about to happen, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.

    Theon kicked at Ramsay’s back with his heels, another desperate attempt to get away. Ramsay licked his fingers and shoved them between his buttocks, bringing them to his entrance. Theon stilled when he felt the tip of his finger against his pucker.

    “n-no no, ramsay pl-please. do-n’t.” His voice trembled nearly as bad as his body. Ramsay smirked and leaned in, hot breath against his lips.

    “You’ll learn soon not to say please to me.” He pushed his fingers in.

    Ramsay had fucked a few assholes in his lifetime. Though he had never taken someone’s virginity back there, till now. All the other holes had been warm and welcoming, already prepared before his fingers even got there. Theon’s hole was certainly warm, but Ramsay swore he would lose one of his digits if the boy did not relax. The crushing heat was promising though. His already hard cock jumped at the idea of being in place of his fingers.

    The sounds Theon was letting out were positively adorable. He never thought he was particularly interested in men, but something about how Theon tried to cover his whimpers and sobs had him practically drooling. If only Theon would stop fighting him and let out his voice. There will be plenty of time for that after he is better trained.

    Theon was still trying to hold back his tears, wasn’t he adorable? Each time he blinked some were squeezed out and trailed down his temples into his hair. Ramsay wanted to lean down and taste them. 

    “rams-ay…ramsay please. st-stop, yo-you-,” he let out a hiccuping sobb. “can-can’t do this. don’t tou-touch me!” Theon tried to pull his hands free of Ramsay's, thrashing and kicking wildly. Ramsays grin widened, The little pup still doesn’t understand. Guess I’ll just have to show him.

    He pulled his fingers out. The tearful yet hopeful expression that blossomed onto his face was almost too cute. He thinks his words got to me? He really is stupid.

    Hope turned to terror and alarm when Ramsay lined the head of his cock up with Theon’s hole. Ramsay had only given a few short minutes to the halfhearted preparations of his victim. Theon was still clenched as tight as when they started, abject horror would do that to you. 

    “no no ramsay, do-don’t. ramsay nonononono-“ Ramsay pushed in with one slow continuous thrust. It stole the air from Theon’s chest. He opened his mouth in a silent scream; sure he would never feel something so painful again in his life. 

    Ramsay finally stilled, his hips flush against Theon’s and fully seated in his blazing hot hole. He kept his eyes on Theon’s face as he pulled out partially and plunged back in. The little islander was crying openly now, writhing in pain and horror. Tears streamed down his face, twisted into an expression of pure agony. 

    “ram-ramsay no, sto-p. ple-please, unh- stop!” Theon was spluttering, hardly able to get a full sentence out through his tears and the excruciating pain. He had never expected it would hurt, then again he had never expected to be raped.

    Ramsay grit his teeth and kept up his slow, shallow thrusts. Theon was so tight, the grip he had on Ramsay's cock was crushing. The lack of oil, or any other lubricant besides a bit of spit, made the dry pull of skin on skin uncomfortable for Ramsay and hell for Theon. 

    Ramsay had raped enough women to know that eventually they would tear and blood would ease the way. He shifted his weight, putting it all onto his hand pinning Theon’s wrists over his head, and brought his other hand to grip Theon’s trembling, squirming hip. He started to fuck him earnestly.

    “ahh! stop, it-it hurts!” Theon screamed, tears flowing down his face and snot bubbling from his nose. Ramsay was thankful that their rooms were secluded and Winterfell was fairly soundproof, other than the fireplaces of course.

    After his first few hard thrusts Ramsay felt Theon’s hole get slick. He pulled his eyes from his face to see the blood that now coated his cock. He grinned and leaned down to whisper in the sobbing boy's ear.

    “Don’t worry, sweetling. Your virgin little cunt just tore, the blood will help slick you up.” Theon choked and turned his head away. Ramsay brought his mouth down to the now exposed skin of his neck and began to suck. He gave a particularly harsh thrust, tilting his hips up. Those sensations combined, drawing a small cracked moan from Theon’s lips. Ramsay smirked against his skin. Always knew he was a little whore. 

    Ramsay continued picking up speed. He had to admit that Theon was a good fuck. The expressions he made as Ramsay drove in and out of him were adorable. Though Ramsay liked the pain filled, mortified ones he wore now, he was sure that once Theon was nice and broken in the faces he would pull when he came would be even better. 

    The thought of Theon well trained and desperate to please had his sack tightening up and warmth tingling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled away from Theon’s neck to watch his face. The sandy blonde head rocked back and forth on the bed with each thrust. The tears and strangled sobs coming from him were music to Ramsays ears. With a brutal shove he came deep inside him. 

    Ramsay gave a few stuttering pumps as he rode out his orgasam, tilting his head back and letting out a guttural groan. 

    Theon felt a burst of wet sticky warmth deep inside him. He closed his eyes letting out a shaking sigh as Ramsay finally stilled, orgasam fully rung of pleasure. 

    Ramsay looked down and watched as he pulled his bloody cock free from Theon’s hole. His cunt was still tight, rim stretching as it clung to his cock. Letting go of Theon’s now limp wrists he leaned back, looking at the angry red, swollen pucker dripping blood and cum. 

    He pushed off Theon’s bed and took a few steps away, taking in the full sight of the wrecked boy. Theon shivered, his tears finally slowing as he stared up at the dark ceiling, his face blank, thoughts running in circles. he’s done now. he’ll leave. he finished and now he’s going to leave. he got what he wanted so he’ll leave. he’s finished and now there’s no reason for him to stay. he’ll go to his own room and leave me alone. he’s done and is going to leave.

    His thoughts were broken when he heard the soft thuwmp of fabric falling to the floor. He froze. Picking his head up from the mattress shakily he looked at Ramsay with horror. Now naked, he was pulling a length of rope from the bag he had discarded earlier. Theon scrambled backwards, his tears starting again as Ramsay approached the bed.

    “Oh, little Theon. Did you think we would be done after just one go at it? It’s as you say, I am a vulgar bastard, so of course a single round isn’t enough to satisfy me. Don’t worry, we have the whole night ahead of us.”

Chapter Text

    Ramsay's knife was hot as fire as it cut through the skin of Theon’s shoulder. He kept his hands steady and slow. He had to make it nice; it was the sigil of his house after all. 

    After the first line he started on the second. He was just as careful with it, sure to make them symmetrical. Once he finished he wiped the blood away with a corner of Theon’s bed sheets, they were quickly becoming a stained mess. He leaned back to admire it.

    “What do you think? I believe it came out quite nice.” Ramsay looked from Theon to the new wound expectantly. “Nothing to say? Well then I’ll take it to mean you love it!” Theon whimpered around the gag of rope in his mouth. The rough fibers sticking to his tongue, making it hard to breathe.

    His eyes widened and nostrils flared as he saw Ramsay lift his red covered hands back to his shoulder. Ramsay smirked, Theon letting out a choked screech as he began to deepen the wound. He wanted the large X to scar big. 

    Ramsay did multiple passes, widening the cuts each time he went. Theon screamed the whole time, fortunately for Ramsays ears the gag was effective at dampening the sound. The steel carved deeper and deeper into the muscle of his deltoid, blood flowing down his arm. The room was thick with the warm, acrid scent of the liquid. It made Theon’s stomach roll and his mind squirm.

    “Done!” Ramsay said excitedly. Theon took a stifled gasp and sagged in his restraints. He let out a shriek when Ramsay pressed a fresh section of his sheets to the new gash and applied pressure. Ramsay didn’t want the little islander losing consciousness from blood loss. He scanned Theon’s trembling body, stripped naked and bound up nicely in rope. He could already see the friction burns growing where the rope made contact with his skin.

    Ramsay smirked, bringing his other hand to Theon’s hole.

    He shoved two of his fingers in without warning, enjoying the way Theon jumped and cried behind his gag. He worked them inside the bloody hole. He had fucked him less that and hour ago and he was already tight again. Theon balled his fists, tied to the head board. He glared through tears, pain, and humiliation at Ramsay hatefully. 

    “I think this place could use my mark as well, don’t you think?” Ramsay pulled his fingers free, spreading Theon’s blood on his hard cock. Theon shook his head violently, muffled pleas leaking out from behind the gag. He grinned, lined up and punched in.

    Ramsay thrust hard and fast into Theon’s trembling body. He watched the way the back of Theon’s head rocked with each shove. The sound of wet slapping filled the room. Ramsay gripped his hips harder and leaned forward licking a stripe up the expanse of his back. He sobbed harder. 

    He pulled back against the rope binding his arms together. Ramsay had rearranged him halfway through fucking him. He was stretched out, his chest pressed against the mattress and knees lifting his ass up where Ramsay ravaged him. Theon had kicked and scratched, struggled and thrashed when Ramsay untied him to shift to a different position. That had ‘earned’ him one of his toenails ripped out.

    Ramsay picked up speed, moving faster and faster. Theon knew what was about to happen. With one particularly vicious thrust he bit down into the soft flesh of Theon’s shoulder and came deep inside him. Theon wailed around the gag into his mattress.

    Ramsay stayed buried in him as he licked the blood drawn from his unusually sharp canines. He leaned back and watched Theon’s hole as he pulled out slowly. The taxed rim still gripped hard as he pulled out. Theon’s soft insides twitched and clenched around him. 

    “It’s like you’re sucking me back in.” Ramsay finally pulled free, a mix of blood and cum followed. He had to remember to bring some oil and really work him open next time.

    He pushed off the bed and stretched. On the mattress Theon sobbed in relief. He was done at last. Theon felt thankful beyond words to him for finally stopping. 

    He hated himself for it.

    “What’s that sweetling? Are you sad because you think I’m leaving?” Ramsay flipped him onto his back, twisting his arms painfully. “Don’t worry darling, I just need a little break, then I can fill you up again.” He leaned down and kissed his gagged mouth, stroking his sweat soaked hair as he trembled. 

    He wandered around Theon’s room, opening drawers and looking through papers. It made Theon feel almost as violated as when he was coming inside him.

    Theon stayed still and silent on the bed, hoping that Ramsay would just forget about him. The bastard was really taking his time inventorying the contents of Theon’s room. Searching through chests and drawers, and rifling through shelves.

    Theon watched him approach his desk. He cringed as Ramsay picked up his sketchbook and flipped it open. He leafed through the pages, then smirked over his shoulder at Theon. 

    “It makes sense you would have a talent for this too. Most women are good at art.” Theon felt a pang of gratitude. No one other than Yara and his mother had ever seen his drawings. That small, backhanded compliment made him just ever so slightly happy. He was disgusted at himself for it. 

    Ramsay closed the book and set it down. He reached for the small pot of colored pencils on his desk, taking a handful and appraising the unsharpened ends of them. He sighed dramatically and stalked back to Theon’s bed, sitting down in a huff. Theon eyed him wearily. He hoped he wouldn’t break those. They were expensive and uncommon this far north, coming all the way from Dorn. 

    “These will have to do for now.” Ramsay said disappointed. He took the blunt end of one pencil and pushed against the now slightly looser pucker of Theon’s hole. Theon’s yelp of surprise caught in his throat. 

    Ramsay smirked as he pushed another and another inside him. Tears of humiliation began running down his face. Ramsay leaned down and licked them away. 

    “Don’t be sad, little Theon. We’ll get something proper to stretch out your cunt soon.” He kissed Theon’s gagged mouth as he sobbed.

    Ramsay got all 20 pencils worked into him. For the first time ever Theon was glad he only had enough money for 20 of them. Once all of them were deep inside, only the colored tips showing, he left them alone. Leaning back he scanned Theon’s body. 

    “We’ll do the first bit here.” Ramsay said, tapping Theon’s left breast. “Right over your heart.” Theon began to tremble again as Ramsay took up his knife from where he had set it down on the mattress. Theon squeezed his eyes shut, willing this nightmare to finally end. 

    He took a full breath of air for the first time in hours as Ramsay sliced through the rope around his face. The gag fell away, soaked through with bloody saliva. Theon looked up at him, bewildered and hopeful that this at last signaled the end. 

    “I don’t want you holding back your voice now.” Ramsay smirked and winked at him, tossing the gag off the bed.

    “pl-please ram-say. just st-stop. you-you’ve made your point, i-i’m sor-sorry for everything. please.” Theon stuttered through tears. His voice was cracked and raw, the same as his insides. 

    “I thought I told you not to say please to me?” Theon gulped. “Anyway, I want to share something with you. I'm sure you know the Bolton sigil? It’s carved into your arm so I would hope so.” Ramsay chuckled as Theon bit back another sob, squeezing his eyes shut. “It's the flayed man! Flaying has been a Bolton tradition for centuries. Unfortunately it has fallen out of fashion in later years.” He shook his head sadly. “But I’ve decided to keep those old ways alive!” Theon opened his eyes, seeing the now familiar sadistic grin was back in place. “I want to share that tradition with you little Theon. I hope you will appreciate it as much as I do.”

    Ramsay had to sit on his chest to keep him still while he worked. Theon wailed as he carved and peeled back the layers of his skin. Screeching and shrieking as he was skinned. Ramsay found it adorable the way he kicked his legs and thrashed under him, trying to escape the pain. Of course it was no use. 

    By the end Theon had screamed himself hoarse. Once finished, Ramsay threw the slab of flesh out the window, he hoped one of the wolves (Robb’s hopefully) would make a nice snack out of it.

    All of Theon’s pathetic whimpers and moans of pain had his cock hard again. Once he returned to the bed he leaned down and whispered into Theon’s ear. 

    “I’m going to untie you now. I expect you to be a good, sweet little whore. If not… I’ll flay this precious cock of yours. So tell me sweetling, will you behave?” Ramsay pulled back to look into Theon’s eyes. He saw a flash of defiance in them and he reached for the knife once more. All that left Theon once he saw the blade in Ramsays hands. He cried softly and nodded his head. “I couldn’t hear you.” Ramsay trailed the edge of the knife down his quivering stomach. 

    “ye-yes. i’ll be-be good.” He stuttered out, closing his eyes and gasping back sobs. Ramsay smirked and placed a delicate kiss to Theon’s cheek. He trailed his mouth down to his nipple and started to worry at it with his tongue. Theon let out a small gasp. After all the pain he had experienced, this small bit of pleasure felt heavenly. He was disgusted at himself

    Ramsay smirked against Theon’s skin and began cutting through the rope. Once Theon was unbound he clasped both his hands over his gasping mouth trying to cover his growing sobs. Ramsay sat up and gripped Theon’s wrists, pulling them away. The pure terror that filled his eyes in that moment had Ramsay’s cock leaking. 

    “No no, sweetling. I want to hear you. You are never to hold back your cries unless I tell you. Understand?” Ramsay asked, speaking slowly and softly as to not frighten the boy. Theon sniffled and gave a small nod. He had no fight left in him.  

    Ramsay watched his face as he slid his hand down and gripped the pencils still inside him. Theon gasped and whimpered, closing his eyes tight as he slowly pulled them out. Ramsay looked at his hole, he had really done a number on it. It was a bright, angry red, swollen, raw and dripping blood. Ramsay lightly brushed the tip of his finger against it, Theon immediately hissed in pain and tried to close his legs. Ramsay wrenched them back open and slapped him hard across the face.

    “I thought we agreed you would be good?” He asked in an ice cold voice. Theon gripped his cheek and stared up at him, wide eyed and terrified. Ramsay raised an eyebrow and Theon started shaking.

    “yes yes, i’ll be g-good.” Theon said quickly. 

    Ramsay regarded Theons hole. He really did want to be buried inside its crushing warmth and fill him with one more load. But he didn’t want to do any lasting damage to the boy either. Ramsay sighed.

    “I’ll give you a choice. Either I can fuck your cunt one last time,” Theon whimpered and tried to shrink in on himself. “Or you can suck my cock and take my load down your throat.” Ramsay looked at Theon expectantly. Who said he wasn’t a nice guy?

    Theon stared at him. His whole body was on fire. There was not one bit that wasn’t screaming in agony. That being said his mouth was in much better shape than his ass. He slowly parted his lips and dropped his jaw. 

    “Good.” Ramsay smiled

    Theon was horrible at sucking cock. Ramsay didn’t know how many times he told the boy to keep his teeth out of the way until he finally got it. Still, seeing the humiliation and suffering on his face as he pumped in and out of his mouth was enough to get him through. As he came he gripped the back of his head and didn’t release until Theon swallowed all of his spend. Still deep inside, he smirked at the wreck he had made him. His fuck-bruised lips stretched tight around his base and the flutterings of his wet lashes sent a tingle up his spine.

    “You really were born for this. I'm sure your father would be proud.” Ramsay brushed some of his sandy hair off his forehead. “You aren't fit to be a prince, just a whore. That can be your new title: The whore of the Iron Islands.”

    Ramsay saw it a moment too late. The twitch of his jaw muscles and indignant rage flashing in his eyes. Theon bit down.

    Ramsay howled. He punched Theon square in the nose, a wet crunch coming from the blow. Theon released his jaw and flew backwards. He fell off the bed clutching at his nose, spurting blood. As soon as he realized he was free he went to jump up and run out of the room, but the blazing pain in his lower half stopped him. 

    He crawled. 

    Ramsay kneeled on the bed, holding his cock. Theon really hadn’t bit hard at all. His jaw muscles were still numb from being forced open around the rope gag. That didn’t mean it felt nice though. 

    When Ramsay heard a shuffle across the room he snapped to attention. Theon was halfway to the door by then. Ramsay saw red. He lunged off the bed and grabbed Theon in a crushing hold, smashing his face into the flood. 

    “You fucking bitch!” Ramsay snarled in his ear. “I treat you with kindness and this is how you repay me?” Theon groaned in pain under him. “Fine, if you want to be a bad boy, I’ll treat you like one.” He grabbed him by the hair and dragged him back to the bed. He picked up his knife and brandished it in his face. “You want to fucking bite? Open wide then.”  

    The birds were chirping and the sun was shining by the time Ramsay finished with Theon. He slipped his clothes back on as he whistled. He felt refreshed and satisfied, even with his lack of sleep. He sauntered over to the bed one last time and leaned down, tapping a finger to his cheek. Theon could barely move, but terror fueled him. He pushed up on shaky arms, careful of his broken fingers and missing nails. He pressed his blood and tear soaked lips to Ramsays smiling cheek. Ramsay reviled in the trembling, petrified, desperate affection. 

    “I’ll be off then, sweetling.” He said over his shoulder as he walked to the door, a skip in his step. Theon collapsed back to the bed and curled in on himself. Exhausted, in pain, and just having experienced one of the most horrific things possible; he was asleep the moment he closed his eyes. 

    Ramsay pulled the door open wide, grin in place and ready for the new day.

    He locked gazes with Jon immediately. They stared at one another until Jon’s eyes slid back behind Ramsay. He knew the moment Jon processed what he was looking at. He paled as his face turned from one of mild confusion to stricken horror. 

    Jon was not able to process the extent of what he saw before Ramsay was closing the door softly behind him. The one thing he was sure he saw was Theon curled naked atop his covers, bruised and bloodied, cum and blood leaking out of his unconscious form. 

    “Shh.” Ramsay put a finger to his lips, his knuckles stained red. “Best let him get his sleep, he had a long night.” Ramsay grinned from ear to ear as he clasped Jon on the shoulder and started to steer him towards the dining hall. Jon let himself be led away. “I, on the other hand, am ravenous.” 

    Jon was silent as Ramsay joked and talked with Robb during breakfast. Their conversation went from one topic to another, but it specifically did not mention Theon. Jon saw the way Robb kept glancing to the door and scanning the other tables. 

    Jon was in shock. He was still processing what he had just seen. It was a crime, a horrible violent crime committed against someone who… had been horrible and violent to him at every opportunity. Jon felt like he was being ripped in two. He knew what Ramsay did was wrong. But he also knew how Theon treated the women he slept with, Jon knew how Theon treated him . The tension inside him grew even stronger when Arya spoke up, looking around.

    “Where’s Theon? He missed dinner last night and now he’s not here again.” The table fell quiet, everyone gathered looking around as if to see if they had missed him hiding somewhere. All but Jon and Ramsay. They both knew exactly where he was.

    “I, um, think I know where he is.” Ramsay cleared his throat and spoke sheepishly. Jon’s heart stopped. Is Ramsay going to confess to what he did, right here, in the middle of the hall? “He went to the brothel last night.” Ramsay glanced at Ned and Catelyn, a slight blush on his cheeks. He really could play the pure young ward when he wanted to. “I don’t think he has returned yet. He even left Smiler here in the stables, I think he is planning on being there for a while.”

    “Are you sure? He usually would be back by now.” Sansa piped up, looking at Ramsay, suspicion in her eyes. She knew more than people thought. Though she did not know the extent of the darkness in Ramsay, or what exactly he had done. If she had she would have fed him to his own hounds.

    “I am,” Ramsay said, still looking embarrassed by the topic. “Jon saw him leave too.” All eyes turned to Jon.

    He froze. The brothel? That's not where he is. He’s in his room unconscious with blood running down his thighs and his skin covered in bruises… And I didn’t do a thing. I just stood there when I saw him, didn’t lift a finger to help. But… Would Theon have done anything to help me if roles were reversed? …No, he would not. Jon looked up slowly and locked eyes with Ramsay. The new ward was watching him intently, the grip on his fork and knife so tight his knuckles turned white.

    “…Yes, he left after you told him off at the springs.” Jon spoke coolly, never breaking off eye contact. He watched Ramsay try to conceal his grin.

    “He’s insufferable.” Robb scoffed. “You tell him off one time and he throws a fit, hiding away.”

    Ramsay and Jon continued to eat breakfast, neither of their appetites diminished.

Chapter Text

    Cracking open swollen, puffy, still red eyes, Theon woke slowly. He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been asleep, or (most importantly) where Ramsay was. What he did know was that every part of him screamed in pain.

    His stomach ached, both with hunger and from the punches Ramsay had delivered, mostly the latter. His chin, scraped and bloodied, black and blue, was tender to the slightest touch. The skin of his chest raw from being dragged across the cold stone floor. He had chipped one of his bottom teeth, the sharp edge poking his tongue whenever he touched it. His face was swollen and just as damaged as his abdomen.

    He shifted in bed, trying to find the position that would put the least pressure on his numerous wounds. He gasped in pain and dropped back down when he began to push himself up. Both his hands throbbed. Holding back tears, he was surprised that he still had any to cry, he looked at his mangled hands. Both his little fingers were at odd angles and swollen to twice their size. Three fingernails and the big toenail of his right foot had been ripped out, leaving their beds bloody and searing in pain at the slightest touch.

    Whimpering, he retired to stay in his current position, grateful to not have fallen asleep on the arm that the Bloton sigil had been carved into. The X had been sliced deep into his muscle. Scabs ripped and fresh blood flowed from it whenever he so much as flexed his shoulder. 

    The humiliation he felt at being branded with another house's sigil was almost as strong as the pain.

    As he dragged his gaze away from the X, he saw one of the many rope burns from the restaurants he had spent most of the night in. His wrists and ankles were chafed, raw to the point that blood bubbled from the marks at the slightest flexion of the joints. 

    The more subtle reminders of what had happened sent his stomach into even more cramps. The bite mark to his shoulder and numerous hickeys seemed like sick parodies of what he himself had done to women in the past. He shuddered to think that he had even put one person through a fraction of what he had experienced. 

    Of course he had never flayed a section of their fucking skin off. The patch he had lost on his chest was about three inches squared, and had gone just under his dermis. He had lost another section of skin on his right calf, about seven by two inches later in the night. The slightest movement of his upper body or lower leg had the wounds oozing red and Theon nearly fainting from pain. 

    After his head flopped back down he felt a trickle of warm blood make its way from his nose, down the side of his face, and onto his soiled pillow. He could still hear the wet crack that sounded when Ramsay punched his nose. The ache of his nasal bone was accompanied by the throbbing in his jaw and the pulsing of a freshly emptied tooth socket. 

    After biting Ramsay he was sure he would never do anything he regretted more. Through sobbed apologies, despite pleas and howls of agony Ramsay had punished him. 

    He dislocated Theon’s jaw to have full access to his mouth. It had taken him nearly half an hour to carve out one of Theon’s back teeth. 

    “I’ll take one from the back. I would hate to look at a ruined smile after fucking.” The thought that this could happen again had him sobbing even harder.

    When he had finally finished he fucked Theon’s slack mouth once more. He ripped out handfuls of sandy blond hair as he did so, using them as handles to move his limp head up and down his cock. When Ramsay finally popped his jaw back into place, Theon couldn’t tell if it hurt more when being wrenched out of the socket or shoved back in. 

    The hoarse groans of pain the relocation had caused got Ramsay hard again. Theon was absolutely astounded at how many times the northern could go. It was animalistic. A dog in rut. 

    Ramsay hadn’t been fucking as much as he used to back at the Dreadfort. With his usual bed warmers left behind he either had to pay a whore or find a girl to rape. Of course most people would say that there was a third option missing, but Ramsay would rather be eaten alive than actually talk to and charm a woman into willingly having sex with him.

    Ramsay, ready for yet another round, gave him a choice.

    “Either I’ll fuck your cunt, or you’ll use your hands to get me off. I’ve had enough of your little mouth.” Truth was that Ramsay didn’t trust him enough not to bite again. When asked, Theon didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his mangled hands around Ramsay's large, thick cock and gave him the most enthusiastic hand job he could muster. 

    Out of all of his aching body parts and searing wounds his ravaged insides were the worst. They burned and throbbed, pulsing with agony and shame. He had felt warm liquid (he knew it was a mix of cum and blood) trickle and drip from his raw hole for most, if not all, of the night. He never wanted to touch his ass ever again let alone have a surprisingly large cock pound away inside it.

    Ramsay had praised him for how well he worked his cock with his hands. The relief and sickening pride he felt at the kind words had him choking back vomit. It was a good thing he kept it down, he did not want to have to lick back up the mixture of bile, cum and blood. 

    The kiss Ramsay pulled Theon into as a ‘reward’ had him more disgusted than he would have been if he actually had licked up vomit. Shocked that he could still feel violated after all that had been done to him, when Ramsay kissed him all he saw was red. Theon had bit at his tongue and struck out wildly with exhausted limbs. He even managed to scratch at his face with some of the finger nails he still had. 

    That was what got him his leg flayed. Once finished with Theon’s punishment, he spent the next hour locking their lips together. Putting his tongue in Theons mouth and making him do the same. Having Theon kiss his hands and feet, pressing his tear damp lips to his own smiling ones. The slightest hesitation would earn him more violence. By the end of the night Ramsay needed only to tell Theon where and he would plant shaking, terrified kisses. 

    A shudder racked through his broken body at the re-lived horrors. Pain and fatigue battling in him. One forcing him awake and another calling him to sleep. Theon stared out his window at the sky from his bed as the two warred inside him. He did not know how long it took, could have been hours or minutes, exhaustion won. His dreams were blissfully empty.

    “Jon. I have a question for you.” Ramsay said, following him from the dining hall once they were done with breakfast. Jon paused, turning slowly and scrutinizing the ward hard. After the events of less than an hour ago, to be calling out to him so soon set him on edge.

    “…What?” Jon glanced all around, scanning the faces of those who passed by. How much did they know of Ramsay’s depravity? Or more importantly, of Jon’s?

    Ramsay grinned and clasped his arm around Jon’s shoulders. Walking them both forward, Ramsay steered towards the back chambers of Winterfell. Jon scrunched his eyebrows together; the only thing here were the kitchens, laundry, storage rooms, and some servants quarters.

    “Some of Theon’s… activities last night have dirtied his bed sheets. As he isn’t feeling the best currently, he asked if I could go fetch him some. But I’m afraid that I don’t know where the linens are kept here.” Ramsay said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Would you be able to help me get him a fresh change?” Jon’s eyes locked with Ramsay’s.

    They stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. Jon debating what he should do and Ramsay waiting for his answer. The tension crackled between them. 

    Jon came to his conclusion. Giving Ramsay the slightest smile, so small the new ward would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching him so closely, Jon nodded, walking them forward.

    “They keep the clean linens in here.” Jon pushed open the door to one of the storage rooms. “I’ll show you where to put the dirty stuff too.”

    Ramsay’s arms were piled high with clean white sheets. They had found them neatly folded alongside the extra pillows, two of which were now held under each of Jon’s arms. The fact that Winterfell even had extra pillows was a testament to the Starks' wealth and prosperity. 

    “… I don’t suppose you would want to tell me about what happened last night? Seeing as I’ve now gotten myself involved, I should know.” Jon stated, watching the hallway in front of them. Ramsay was so stunned he faltered in his steps and almost tripped. Once he regained his balance, he burst out laughing. 

    “By the Gods! Who would have thought that the gloomy bastard of Ned Stark could be so forward!” Jon rolled his eyes and huffed. 

    “I’m not joking, Ramsay. What did you do?” Ramsay swallowed the rest of his chuckling at Jon’s serious tone.

    I suppose the bastard is right . He sighed and steeled his expression, even if it did not match the way he felt on the inside.

    “You know Theon better than I do, you two have grown up together. I'm sure you’re well aware of how he treats women. How he acts towards you is no better. I just got fed up with it.” Ramsay looked to Jon, confident in his reasoning. “You may think I was a little rough on him, but it's no less than he deserves.” Jon swallowed thinking back to the state he had seen Theon in. 

    “So you, you… raped him?” 

    “I would hardly call it rape. You should have seen him last night. He was practically begging for my cock!” Ramsay grinned wolfishly at him. 

    “…Really?” 

    “Yes! I mean of course he’ll deny it, you know those Iron Born and their ‘manliness’. But I’ve heard him at night, he wanted it bad . I just gave it to him.” 

    Jon was silent. 

    “Look, if I was sooo mean would I be changing his sheets?” Ramsay shook his arm full of fabric. “You’ll see, he’ll be back to his normal self, though much more respectful, by tonight!” Jon said nothing else as they made their way to their chambers. He knew Ramsay was lying (or mostly lying at least), but he found that he didn’t feel bad for Theon. More frightening than that, he felt a little disappointed at missing the show.

    It was the sound of the door closing that woke Theon for the second time that day. Unsure if the sound was in his mind or not he closed his eyes again. When the noise of footsteps and rustling of fabric reached him, he bolted up despite the pain it caused him. As soon as he set his eyes on Ramsay he felt his breath quicken and his tears gather.

    The horror of the past night was about to start again. Except this time he knew how terrible it would be. His shield of ignorance gone.

    Unlike before Ramsay was followed into Theon’s room by another person. As Jon crossed the threshold and Ramsay slowly closed the door behind him, Theon’s heart stopped and his body froze. 

    When Jon entered his eyes opened wide at Theon’s state. It was much worse up close. More concerning than the wounds on his trembling flesh was the fear in his eyes.

    The soft click of the door closing snapped Theon from his stupor. He shot up and back on the bed until he was pressed to the headboard. Pulling the stained sheets to his chest, trying to cover his naked body, and looking frantically from Ramsay to Jon. He opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say, mind too muddled with fear. 

    Ramsay stood next to Jon in the center of the room, admiring the show Theon was putting on. He grinned and approached the bed. He plopped down next to Theon who flew off the bed, taking the top sheet with him, using it as a cover. He retreated to the far corner of the room, the fabric pulled to his chin and wrapped around himself. Ramsay sighed and rolled his eyes.

    “Don’t be dramatic, Theon. It’s just Jon. Im sure he’s used to seeing people freshly fucked, being a ‘vulgar bastard’ and all.” Jon clenched his jaw at Ramsays words. He could not keep count of the number of times Theon had called him such. 

    “yo-you aren’t going to t-touch me. i won’t le-t you.” The way Theon’s voice trembled sent shivers down Ramsay’s spine. To his own bewilderment, it did the same to Jon.

    “No sweetling, not now. You’ll have to let me get some rest before you try to jump on my cock again.” Ramsay spoke slowly with his saccharin sweet tone. “I’m just here to change your sheets, we made quite the mess out of them last night.” He smirked and winked. “Jon was nice enough to offer me a hand… You should thank him.” He looked expectantly at Theon. After a few moments of terrified silence from Theon, Ramsay raised an eyebrow and put his hand on the hilt of his dagger in its belt scabbard.

    Theon whipped his head to Jon, tears beginning to fall from his eyes, previous embarrassment forgotten. His voice was wet and raw, desperate to spare himself more pain.

    “th-thank you, j-on.” Theon gasped out his name, holding back a sob. Jon’s eyes went wide. He adjusted one of the pillows he was holding, covering the growing bulge in his breeches.

    “Well done, darling.” At Ramsay's praise, Theon seemed to collect himself slightly. Jon was a little disappointed.

    Ramsay stood and began to strip the bed. Jon approached the other side to help. Theon stiffened as he got closer. Theon’s pride screamed at him to do something, anything, but his pulsing wounds and acute terror stopped him. 

    The image of him bolting past Jon towards his desk, retrieving the knife kept in it, and slitting Ramsay's throat, flashed in his mind. His muscles tensed, and he eyed his intended path. As he shifted his weight, ready to sprint to his weapon, the flex of his muscles under the skinned portion of his calf blinded him with pain. He gasped as his knee buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. 

    Jon dropped his arm load and reached out to Theon. Wrapping a strong arm around his waist and lifting him upright. Once he was standing he placed both his hands on his shoulders, steading Theon who was still cringing in pain. Theon, forgetting who it was that was helping him, reached out and grasped Jon’s forearm, bracing himself. He closed his eyes tight waiting for the throbbing agony to fade. 

    A small gasp made him open his eyes. Jon’s concerned gaze was fixed on Theon’s clutching hand. A crooked, swollen pinkie and two bloody nail beds exposed in the late morning light. 

    Theon snatched his hand back and shoved himself away from Jon with as much force as he could muster. 

    “don’t touch me!” Theon yelled as loud as he could, voice hoarse and rough. The worry was quickly replaced with irritation. He dropped his arm, the ones that had just prevented Theon from injuring himself further. Turning back to the bed, he continued to help remove the sheets. In his mind his thoughts seethed.

    He thinks I’m as bad as Ramsay. Never mind the fact that I’ve grown up with the little shit. What, I start to stand up for myself and now I’m a fucking rapist? What does it matter anyway? Even if I never did anything wrong he would still treat me like I had.

    His anger steeled him enough for the sight of Theon’s bed. As the two bastards pulled back the sheets the state of them became apparent. Large rust red patches were scattered across the fabric. Crusts of dried blood flaked off as the fibers moved under them, fluttering to the ground. 

    Along with the red, stains of pale yellow were marked where sweating bodies had spent the night. Along with the occasional spot of off-white crust, it was obvious as to what had happened here. Although one might think a pig was slaughtered there after someone got lucky. 

    As they bunched up the soiled linen Theon stood frozen in the corner. The pain from his leg still thrummed through him. There’s no way I can do anything injured as I am. I’ll have to… His mide drew a blank at what action he should take. 

    The sudden flash of an arm in his peripheral vision had him closing his eyes and flinching away violently as a frightened squeak escaped his lips. When the anticipated blow did not come he cracked his eyes open. Both Jon and Ramsay were looking at him. The arm intent on striking him was actually Jon shaking out the base sheet of Theon’s clean bed linens. 

    He quickly dropped his gaze, embarrassed at his reaction. Ramsay grinned, self satisfied and proud of the effect he had on the islander. Jon blinked, confused with the arousal brought on by Theon’s fear. He had some true power over someone for the first time in his life. 

    It was intoxicating. 

    It seemed that every snap of the sheets or wave of an arm had Theon wincing away, fearful of a strike. He did not move from his spot from the corner the whole time they worked; The pain from his leg and everywhere else on his body keeping him still. 

    The soiled sheets were piled up at the foot of the bed. A mass of blood, sweat, and cum stains. All but the one Theon was covering himself with. 

    “Here Theon, give me that sheet so we can be done.” Ramsay said, now on the same side of the bed as Theon and Jon, his hand outstretched, palm up. 

    Theon made no move to give anything to Ramsay. His eyes darted from the waiting hand to Jon’s watchful face. It was the one thing keeping the extent of his humiliation from Jon. 

    Ramsay sighed and dropped his hand. Theon relaxed his grip, thinking the new ward would let him stay covered. In a flash Ramsay shot forward and snatched the fabric from him. He tossed it behind himself and grinned. Theon yelped and slapped his hands over his cock. The next moment he was under the clean sheets on his bed. His calf and fingers (and everything else) screamed at the movement. Being covered in front of Jon was worth the pain. 

    Ramsay chuckled at his modesty. The islander would get used to it soon enough. Turning on his heels, he gathered the sheets and headed towards the doorway. Jon was stock still, gazing intently at Theon.

    Though it had been brief, the sight of Theon’s wounded body was mesmerizing. Jon hadn’t realized how much weight Theon had lost until the hot spring yesterday. His leanness in combination with the cuts and bruises made him seem like a completely different person. Jon liked this new person.

    Ramsay smirked at Jon’s back. He had noticed Jon’s changing gaze over the last fortnight. The growing lust that Jon didn’t seem to know of himself.

    “Jon, get the door, would you?” Ramsay’s question shook him from his trance. Turning quickly he hefted open the door for Ramsay. Before leaving Ramsay fixed Theon with his ice gaze, smile growing as he spoke.

    “Now say thank you to us for cleaning up your mess, Theon.” 

    Theon was mute, but the furry in his eyes said all that was needed to answer. A tense heartbeat passed before Ramsay decided theon was taking too long. He took a step back over the threshold, intent on teaching Theon a lesson on appreciation, when he was cut off. Jons voice was full of cold anger, chilling with its unspoken threat.

   “You really should say thank you, Theon.” The way he uttered the islanders name made Ramsay worry he was going to have to hold him back from strangling Theon in a moment. Theon for his part was barely able to keep fresh tears at bay. 

    Theon swallowed the growing lump in his throat, though it didn’t help to steady his voice.

    “thank you.” It was just above a whisper, but Ramsay and Jon heard him. They left the room, closing the door firmly behind themselves.

    Jon stared into the flames as Ramsay added another stained bundle of fabric to the fire. Out in the quiet of the woods, where they had decided to burn the sheets (Ramsay had learned to get rid of any evidence by now), Jon had nothing to distract himself from his thoughts.

    He could not get the image of Theon, trying to stop his tears and trembling, out of his mind. The way he had flinched away from him was a sensation he had never experienced before. It was the sensation of power. Jon, for the first time in his life, had control over someone. There was a person who actually cared about what he did and how he felt. He knew that Robb and Ned cared for him, but it was always from a distance. They could never show that he really mattered. When Jon was with Theon, everything he did mattered. 

    To have Theon under me… trying to please me. It wouldn’t matter that I’m a bastard then. If I was… inside him, the only important thing would be how I felt and what I wanted to do. Jon’s cock jumped at the thought. The idea of being significant, for his emotions to be of consequence, was blissful.

    Jon realized that heady feeling of power Ramsay had experienced when he took Theon, was something he wanted desperately for himself. As he gazed into orange and red he steeled his resolve. He would have that feeling.

Chapter Text

    Maester Luwin looked up from his desk at the knock to his door. 

    “Come in.” He called, setting down his quill. He was surprised when the new ward crossed his threshold. The boy softly closed the door behind him and looked sheepishly at Luwin. 

    “Hello Maester.” He spoke quietly, embarrassed. “I… need some things from you.” He paused, thinking over his next words carefully. “Healing things. I have a friend who… got into a bit of a scuffle.” The Maester looked at Ramsay, expecting more of an explanation. When it did not come he sighed, stood up and made his way over to his healing supplies. 

    “Why doesn’t this friend come see me themselves? It would be better for them if they did.” He spoke calmly not wanting to push the ward and make him even more reluctant to share information.

    “He’s too embarrassed.” Luwin let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. So it's not a girl, good. I’m sure he is capable of some… unsavory things. He is a Bolton after all. Luwin thought, ashamed at assuming the worst of the boy simply because of his House. 

    “Why would he be embarrassed? I’m a maester, it is my duty to care for all the inhabitants of Winterfell.” 

    “Well… it’s the way he got hurt. He doesn’t want you to… think any less of him.” Luwin paused in gathering his medical supplies. He looked at Ramsay curiously.

    “I’ll need to know what type of injuries he sustained if I’m to give you things to treat them.” At his question Ramsay rubbed the back of his, looking away and shuffling his feet.

    “He… got into a fight, they were particularly rough as he hadn't payed his tab with the whores in a while- '' Ramsay slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide at the ‘secret’ he had just ‘accidentally’ spilled. “I mean- he didn’t, pay for um- his… floors.” Luwin chuckled, smiling softly. 

    “I don’t care what he did to get into the fight, just what wounds he needs treated.” He said, turning back to his supplies. 

    Ramsay grinned as the maester turned his back. Old fool. Theon will be happy, even though he really doesn’t deserve to be patched up with how he behaved last night. I really am too nice. He began to list Theon's, rightfully earned, wounds.

    “… Are you sure that your friend would not come see me in person? Many of the injuries you listed are quite serious.” Maester Luwin said after the initial shock had worn off.

    “Believe me Maester, I tried to get him to come to you. He was reluctant to let me even treat him.” Ramsay said, shaking his head.

    “Well… let me get you some things for him.” He said, starting to gather together the many remedies this mystery boy would need. “The thing that is most concerning for me is the broken fingers. If he does not get those set into the correct position, they will heal wrong.”

    “I can set it.” Luwin looked up at the conference now in Ramsay’s tone. “It was a clean break anyway, easy enough to fix.” Ramsay shrugged, nonchalant.

    Luwin nodded and slowly started collecting things again. How does he know how to set broken bones? More importantly; how does he know that it was a clean break? 

    His suspicions only grew as he set the last of the remedies Ramsay would need on the table. He wanted to question the boy, find out what role he had truly played in this. But he knew that if pressed Ramsay would most likely leave and not get his ‘friend’ any treatment at all. It was his duty as a Maester to do anything he could to heal the people of Winterfell. 

    “Here. For the scrapes and scratches use this. For deeper cuts or the… larger wounds,” What barbarens still flay people?… Boltons excluded. “Place this on it and wrap it with these bandages, make sure he changes them every two days or so.” Ramsay was watching intently and nodding along. “For the tooth he lost, rinse with this once daily. It should heal on its own in about a fortnight. As for the fi-” he was cut off mid sentence.

    “Which should I use for wounds on the inside? Does it matter?” Ramsay spoke casually, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to ask. 

    “… Inside?”

    “Yes, you know, inside.” The way Ramsay looked at Luwin stopped him from asking any more questions.

    “… I would use… the one for… deeper… wounds.” 

    “Right.” Ramsay gathered up the salve, creams, bandages, and tonics. “Anything else?”

    “… No… But I really do thi-“

    “Yes yes,” Ramsay said in a concerned tone over his shoulder as he left. “I’ll tell him, thank you Maester Luwin!” The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Luwin standing, mind spinning with dark possibilities.

    Hoof beats thundered down the forest trail as Jon urged Rhis on faster. The speed did nothing to clear his head or rid him of the pressure in his breeches. Riding had always cleared his head in the past; it seemed he would not be so lucky this time. 

    He gave a frustrated sigh and queued Rhis to stop. The mare broke from the canter to trot then to walk. Jon closed his eyes, running his hand down his face in defeat. Theon, fearful and deferent, not leaving his mind.

    The trail they were walking down opened to a grassy clearing. Jon pulled Rhis to a halt and dismounted. I’ll sort out my thoughts before we head back. He stroked Rhis’s neck and took off her bridle, letting her graze freely (he knew she would not leave a meal willingly). He sat in the center of the meadow, defeated.

    Why am I feeling this way? I’ve never thought about Theon, let alone another man that way before. Now I can’t get him out of my head. The way he trembled and flinched was so unlike him, it was so… cute. Jon’s cock twitched. 

    I'm sure he was a crying mess when Ramsay fucked him. Probably took a while for him to finally follow directions, but I’m sure he learned. He snaked at hand down to the laces of his breeches, working them open and shoving the fabric at his waist down, freeing his aching cock. 

    After he was put in his place, all his attention was on… Ramsay. He would try anything he could think of to make him happy. Jon began to work his hand up and down the length of his cock. He would look up at me- at him, wanting only to please. He would be tight and hot, unused and terrified, but fighting through it to make me happy. 

    Jon spit onto his pumping hand, speeding up. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, walking through his vivid fantasy. 

    I would push him down, and he would let me, not a bit of fight in him. His eyes would be wet with tears, but soon he would know that I wouldn’t hurt him as long as he listened. I would push my fingers into his mouth and he would suck them, working his tongue around them. He brushed his thumb over the head of his cock, letting out a low groan. 

    When I worked my fingers into him, he would be so… warm. Snug and warm, making room for me. He might be uncomfortable at first but he wouldn’t say a word of rufusule, because he knows it's what I want. But soon he would like it. And when he was all sloppy and stretched, I would fuck him. He tightened his grip, moving faster still. 

    He would cry, not in fear but in pleasure. He would grab onto me, pull me closer as he moaned my name. ‘Go faster Jon, harder! Use me, let me make you feel good!’ He would call out. Locking his legs around my hips, urging me to speed up. Each time I thrust in he would feel pleasure coursing through him. His balls tightened up, the familiar sensation beginning to build up inside him. 

    I would kiss the tears from his cheeks as I plowed into him. His cock would be twitching, leaking everywhere, ready to cum at any moment. ‘Kiss me Jon! Please kiss me, I want to feel you everywhere!’ And I would kiss him. When I cum he would follow right after, our lips still locked together. We would pull our mouths apart, but I would be buried deep inside him, stopping him up full of my cum. He would look at me and say ‘I love you Jon.’

    He came. Hard. 

    Ramsay sighed under his breath as he dropped a roll of bandages again. It tumbled away from him, over to the opposite side of the hall. He sighed and shuffled away from Theon’s door stooping to retrieve the lost medical supplies. Usually this inconvenience would be enough to make him throw everything he had in his arms out the nearest window; but he was in an exceptionally good mood. 

    Picking up the linen roll he turned back to the closed door of Theon’s chambers. I’m too nice, patching him up like this after how naughty he was. Oh well, I’ll spoil him a bit. He smiled, grasping the door handle and twisting it. The latch released and Ramsay pulled… and pulled again… and again. 

    That little shit locked it! He pounded on the door with his free hand. The wood rattled in its frame, creaking and shaking. 

    “Theon! Open the door.” He called… there was no response. “Theon, come on, I know you’re in there.” Silence “I’ve got things to treat your wounds. That's all I want to do!” The hush continued. “Theon, I’m losing my patience!” Still nothing. “Theon open this fucking door!” The quiet was defining. 

    “Fuck!” He yelled, turning from the door and heading into his own room. He slammed the door shut and grabbed his bag, stuffing the medicine inside it. Slinging the bag over his shoulder and securing it tightly around his chest, he cracked his knuckles and pushed open his window; it had been a while since he climbed.

    Theon let the breath he had been holding out, his heart starting to beat once more. He clasped his hands to his chest, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Stop shaking! You’re fine, he can't get in. You’re safe. 

    It had taken him a pitifully long time to hobble over to his door and bar it. Each step he took his body screamed at him to stop. Fear was the only thing to motivate him. 

    When Ramsay's voice floated to him from the other side of the door he knew it was worth it.

    When Ramsay had come back to him that morning, the nightmare began all over again. White hot terror had lit up his spine as his inside’s clenched. When he had seen Jon’s face it added a whole other level to the horror. 

    They are just two sick bastards who enjoy tormenting a high born. They can’t do anything to hurt you. He thought back to just a moment ago when Ramsay had said he just wanted to treat his wounds. He did just say he wanted to fix me up. The same as when he changed my sheets. Maybe he doesn’t hate me completely? Maybe he actually… cares about me?

    Theon shook his head, cursing himself for his tradorus thoughts. What am I thinking?!? Of course he doesn’t care about me! Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. He did horrible things to me, I’ll never forgive him… I don’t want him to like me anyway. 

    The creak of hinges and a rush of crisp air interrupted his thoughts. He snapped his head over to the window. Ramsay’s black boots thudded down onto the floor as he glared daggers at Theon. Not taking his eyes off him, he shut the window tightly behind him. Theon was frozen in shock, mouth slightly open at the stunt Ramsay had just pulled. 

    We’re on the third floor. Images of people falling from various heights were quickly interrupted as he realized the implications of Ramsay being in his chamber. He began to tremble.

    “stay away Ramsay, i-i’m  warning you.” Theon said, voice not anywhere near as frightened as it should be in Ramsay's opinion.

    “Ha, or what? I’ll tell you Theon,” he dropped his bag and began to slowly stalk towards the bed. “You shouldn’t be giving me orders right now, you should be apologizing and begging for my forgiveness. I just want to treat your fucking wounds and you make me risk life and limb to do so!”  He reached out a hand to haul him out of bed, he snatched it back just in time. 

    The flash of iron shot from under the sheets, swiping in a wide arch. Theon gripped the small dagger harder, cursing his diminished reflexes for missing. Ramsay stared at him, shocked. All was still for a moment, except for Theon’s panting, that small burst of speed leaving him drained. The silence was broken by the bellowing laughter of Ramsay. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, cackling like the madman he was. Theon watched confused and increasingly frightened. 

    “By the Gods!” Ramsay said, catching his breath as he straightened up. “You are a feisty one! Feisty and stupid, that’s for sure. After everything I did to you, you still try to fight back!” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Theon felt his cheeks heating up. 

    Ramsay gave a humorous sigh and held out his hand palm up. Theon looked at the outstretched limb, and tightened his grip. Ramsay raised an eyebrow. 

    “You really think you’ll be able to fend me off? Even at your best you were no match for me. Now give me the knife before you get hurt.” Ramsay leaned forward, reaching for the dagger. Theon swiped at him again. In the blink of an eye Ramsay avoided the weapons path and grabbed Theon’s wrist. Wrenching and twisting it around he brought the weapon welding hand behind Theon’s back, in between his shoulder blades. Theon gasped as both new and old pain crackled to life. His hand opened reflexively, trying to ease the tension of his tendons and ligaments, dropping his only defense in the process. 

    “Tsk tsk, I told you sweetling. You’re lucky I find your stupid little antics entertaining. Otherwise I would have flayed your whole cock for that.” Ramsay let go of Theon’s wrist, giving him a shove so he fell forward onto the mattress. He stepped back from the bed turning to his discarded bag. Opening in he tucked the knife away inside one of the inner pockets, reminding himself to check Theon’s room once again to insure no other weapons were hidden anywhere. As he began unpacking the medical supplies he had brought out of the goodness of his heart, Theon’s mind raced. 

    That was so… easy for him. I-I had a weapon, the advantage of surprise, he was unarmed and had just scaled across the walls of Winterfell. All those advantages and I still couldn’t do a thing. Why? Why do I have to be so.. weak? Ramsay set the multiple salves and creams on his nightstand. He walked over to the pitcher of water kept in all sleeping chambers in Winterfell, and began wetting some of the clean rags he had brought.

    I locked the door, the only feasible entrance, and he still got in. I can't go to the brothel to get away, I can’t go to Robb or Ned or Luwin, not unless I want them to know how pathetic I am. Even Ramsay said that Robb and Ned were angry with me. I-I’m sure it’s a lie, it must be. Jon knowing what happened to me is horrible enough, I refuse to add to that number. Ramsay returned to the bedside, a pile of damp rags in his hand.

    Is there any place where I can hide from him? Do I need to go all the way to the fucking Wall to get away? Is there any escape from this demon? The downward spiral of his thoughts was cut off when the chill air hit his skin. He gasped and scrambled forward for the covers Ramsay had just ripped from his body, flinging to the foot of the bed. A large hand on his chest stopped him in his tracks. He flew back, as if burned by the touch. Ramsay laughed.

    “I’ll be touching you plenty more by the time I finish fixing you up. So I recommend you stop the hysterics.” Theon looked at him dumbfounded. 

    He’s actually going to treat me? He- he wasn’t joking? Theon felt a sickening blossom of gratitude grow in his chest. He was disgusted with himself. 

    “Give me your hand.” Ramsay said as he reached out his own hand, palm up. In the other he had one of the jars he had brought with and a damp cloth. Theon stared at him, making no move to follow his instructions. Ramsay rolled his eyes and shook his hand at Theon, making him flinch slightly. 

    “Unless you want more injuries for me to tend to, you’ll start cooperating.” Theon glanced from Ramsay to the dagger in his belt, and back again. Trembling, he gave Ramsay his hand.

    “Good boy.” The praise made him relax an alarming amount.

    Ramsay set down the jar on the bed and began to wipe the dried blood from Theon’s hand. He was surprisingly gentle, which Theon was glad of as the movement of trying to retrieve the covers had awakened all his aches. 

    After he had wiped the skin clean he opened the jar, scooping a small amount with his fingers. Ramsay had pried two of his nails off on this hand, leaving the beds raw and exposed. He dolloped an equal amount on both and started to softly rub it in. Theon hissed and tried to pull back. Ramsay had a firm grip on his wrist, seemingly unaffected by Theon’s escape attempts. He squeezed slightly and gave him a warning look; That was all Theon needed to quiet down. 

    “Good. If you listen to me, things will be much easier for you. I promise.” Ramsay said, smirking and beginning to bandage his finger tips. Theon believed him.

    He found it strange, being cared for like this. The last time someone had so thoroughly and carefully taken care of him was back on the Iron Islands. When Rodrick and Maron would be particularly rough with him and he spent the rest of the day crying in his room. His mother would come to him. She would sing and tell stories while she wrapped cuts and kissed bruises. To Theon, the hurt he received from his brothers was worth it if it meant being loved after. 

    “Now, last thing.” Ramsay said as Theon sniffled, trying to compose himself. The resetting of his pinkies had hurt the worst so far, even more than having the flayed sections of skin treated. 

    Tossing the roll of bandages into his bag, Ramsay opened one of the jars again. He scooped a large amount out and with the other finger motioned for Theon to turn around. 

    Theon did so hesitantly. I don’t remember any cuts on my back… so much happened last night I can barely keep track of it all. As Ramsay had worked meticulously over his body he had been reminded of more and more wounds. 

    Ramsay had scoured every bit of his body, treating each scratch and scrape he could find. Theon found that he, surprisingly, was not mortified at being so exposed to Ramsay. He had always forced himself to at least pretend to be confident in his body. Real men didn’t care who saw them naked, they were never self conscious. Being comfortable with his body (and himself in general) had never made it past being an act unfortunately. 

    Ramsay, however, had seen him at his worst. Of course he had also been the cause of his worst. 

    Theons confusing self exploration was cut short when he felt fingers tease at his entrance. 

    “n-no!” He squealed, limbs flailing as he tried to turn back around. He was pinned down by a broad hand on the center of his back. “ramsay, pl-ease, do-don’t!” He sputtered out, already his tears flowing freely.

    “Hush, Theon. I’m not fucking you.” Ramsay said, entertained. Theon stilled his arms and legs, taking deep shuddering breaths. “There. Unless you want to shit blood for the next month, you’ll let me do this.” 

    Theon whined and buried his face in the pillows. Ramsay grinned. It seemed like he was finally getting through that thick Iron Born skull. 

    Smearing a generous amount on his red, puffy rim, he began rubbing it in. He made sure to get all around the taxed ring and then some. Taking the tip of his pointer finger he drew it back and forth in small motions across his hole. He did not truly enter Theon, just worked his hole, loosening the rim as much as he had patience for. Lucky for Theon he was in no rush. 

    After what felt like an eternity to Ramsay and a second to Theon, lost in the sensation as he was, Ramsay started to push in. It was not a large movement, he simply rubbed the tip of his finger in slightly deeper at each pass he made. Theon did not seem to notice until Ramsay kept the tip of his finger, up to the end knuckle, inside him. The soft whimpers and groans, turned to sniffles and moans. Ramsay rolled his eyes.

    Pulling his finger free, he took another scoop from the jar. This time he directly pushed his finger back in, stopping where he had before. The sudden push, helped with the slip of the salve, earned a groan from Theon.

    “Uugh-” he snapped his mouth shut, realizing the sound he was making. Ramsay chuckled behind him and Theon felt his cheeks heating up. 

    Ramsay continued to work his finger in deeper. Taking his time to coat Theon’s walls thoroughly. He could feel the tears throughout his ass, but more so he could feel the way Theon slowly relaxed around him despite the pain. Ramsay went to add another finger, stopping himself just before he pushed it in. Stop Ramsay, this isn’t about stretching him out. Just get the salve inside him. If he let himself get carried away now, he was sure he would end up fucking him again.

    Pushing his one finger back inside fully, he felt to make sure he coated his walls as best he could. Under him Theon bit his tongue. It was painful, so painful. But the cream eliminated the rough drag of dry skin on dry skin. And Ramsay took his time, he went so slowly that if not for the tears in him it would have been almost… pleasurable. Theon wanted to scream at the realization. 

    With one last deep push, Ramsay pulled free. Leaving a soft tingling pleasure and a strange sensation of emptiness in Theon.

    “There, all done.” Ramsay said, delivering a firm smack to his ass, earning a yelp from Theon. Ramsay gripped his shoulders and flipped him onto his back. He scanned his body, admiring all the bandages and bruises on the lean body. He loved the way fresh cuts and newly scabbed over wounds looked, but there was a certain satisfaction in seeing someone healed by his own hands. He dismantled Theon and now he reassembled him.

    “Now Theon,” he said looking into wide, ocean eyes. “I need you to behave for me at dinner tonight. Can you do that?” He spoke slowly, careful not to scare him anymore. Theon’s eyes clouded with defiance. That was quickly wiped away when Ramsay raised his eyebrow and put a hand on his sheathed dagger.

    “yes.” Theon responded, swallowing. Ramsay smiled and reached out a hand, stroking Theon’s hair, ignoring the way he flinched.

    “Good boy.”

Chapter Text

    Robb couldn’t pull his eyes away from the dining hall entrance. Each moment that passed without Theon sauntering in had his anger growing. At first he had been worried. Theon did not usually miss dinner, and if he did, he was sure to brag to someone that he was going to ‘get lucky’ instead. Whoever he told was always quick to inform his father. Lord Stark wanted to know where Theon was at all times as a… ward. 

    After the springs Robb had heard nothing of Theon. He had never missed breakfast before. Theon rarely spent the full night at the brother, saying real men didn’t stick around and cuddle with the whores (which Theon never did). Even if he was out until the sun was up, he ate the first meal of the day with them. Often eating then going to bed after a long night awake. 

    Robb would have been worried out of his mind if not for what Jon and Ramsay had said. At first he was suspicious, he knew the reputation of house Bolton, but when Jon confirmed all he felt was anger. Why does Theon have to be so sensitive?! Can't he just put himself in my position for once? He punched the new ward of my house in the face! How was I supposed to do nothing? 

    His internal tirade was silenced when a sandy blond head crossed the threshold. Theon was looking at the floor, glancing up occasionally searching for open seats. He had arrived late and all but the head table was filled. The only open seat being next to Jon and across from Ramsay at the far end of the table. He shuffled over slowly, sitting down gingerly. He winced and shifted, sitting more to the side than seemed comfortable. A serving girl set down a plate of food in front of him, the sound of it clinking down broke the tense silence that had taken over.

    As conversation slowly picked back up, Robb returned to his meal with a huff. At least he has the decency to look embarrassed. Still, it would’ve been better if he just acted like an adult in the first place. Can he really not see it from my view? He’s always been like this. If he were to just apologize for what he’s done, everything could go back to normal. Ha! The day Theon apologizes, dragons will fly over King's Landing. Still… he’s my friend. 

    Robb glanced at Theon in between bites. He hoped to catch his eye so he could look hotly away. However the more he looked at Theon the more his anger for the islander turned to concern. His usual confident, fluid movements were halting and wincing. It looked as if almost every motion caused him pain.

    Theon kept one hand tucked in his lap hidden from view, as the other shakily lifted tiny amounts of food to his mouth. He chewed slowly and on only one side. Both his nose and chin were bruised, the latter also sporting several scratches. He also had the tip of his pointer finger bandaged as well as his whole pinky finger splinted on his visible hand.

    Now Robb really tried to catch his eye, but Theon would not look up. With his head bowed down and bangs covering his eyes, Robb could only see the lower part of his face. That was fine for Theon as he was trying to pretend that the outside world did not exist.

    Across from Theon Ramsay spoke merely to Theon and Jon, getting no response from Theon and only partially formed sentences from Jon. Jon was paying very little attention to Ramsay or the rest of the table. He was watching Theon’s every move from the corner of his eye. The way he was trying so hard to not cringe in pain or fear was twice as delicious as the meal in front of him.

    As dinner continued Robb became increasingly worried, Jon more enthralled, and Ramsay more proud. The whole time Theon did not look up once unless it was to softly answer something Ramsay had asked him. Even when he did so, he kept his head straight, not looking at the rest of the table.

    Theon had not been this quiet during a meal since he had first arrived at Winterfell. Nor had he sported such blatant injuries without bragging as to how he got them. This change was not lost on anyone, even Rickon leaned over to ask his mother if Theon ‘was sick’ and that ‘he should probably take a nap’.

    By the end of his food Robb was ready to vault across the table and drag Theon all the way to the Citadel. Before he could do so his father’s voice silenced the table.

    “Theon, we missed you last night… and this morning. I wonder what could be so important that you disappear for so long without telling anyone?” Ned’s voice was cold and lordly. Theon had never gone anywhere overnight without him knowing where. As his prisoner ward it was Theon’s duty to inform him what he was doing and where he was going. He was not going to let this misstep go unchecked, especially with a new ward. He had to set an example.

    The table went silent as a crypt. All eyes turned to Theon, questions in their gaze. He looked up quickly to Ramsay, who was holding his fork so tightly his knuckles were white, before slowly turning to Ned. At opposite ends of the table Theon had to raise his voice so he could be heard. It was meek and wet, like he had been crying recently.

    “…i was at the brothel.” He was just loud enough.

    “And you didn’t think to inform anyone that you would be gone for more than a full day?” Theon cast his eyes down.

    “…i-i’m sorry, my lord.” 

    “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.” Robb looked at his father surprised, he rarely took such a harsh tone. He was about to speak up, to defend Theon, when Sansa’s concerned voice interrupted him.

    “Are you ok Theon, you seem to be hurt. What happened to your hand?” Robb looked to Theon, curious as to the answer. Theon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if searching for the right words. 

    “…i got into a fight.” He said, barely above a whisper. All were silent. After a tense few heartbeats, Theon stood slowly and shakily from the table. Eyes still on the floor, and voice still barely audible, he turned to Ned. “may i be excused?” 

    “… You may.” At Ned’s allowance Theon exited the room as swiftly as he could. Ramsay smirked after him before reaching for his plate and adding Theon’s mostly untouched food to his own.

    Theon stared at the lit fireplace in silence. Sitting with one leg under him, careful not to put any pressure on his wounds, he let his mind wander.

    Out of all the options available to him, there were none he liked. In his current state he knew violence was impossible, at least any violence he could deal out. That left him with humiliating himself, degrading himself, or doing both by giving up and doing nothing. 

    The faint click of a key entering a lock came to him from his door. He had locked it again as proof to himself that he could still fight back. The way he trembled with fear as he did so argued otherwise. 

    Wincing as he stood up, he turned from the fireplace, ready to meet whoever was on the other side. It was a limited number as only a select few had a spare key to his room. The head caretaker of Winterfell would not be doing any maintenance at this hour, leaving only Ned or Luwin.

    What do I do if it’s Ned here to scold me? Or if it's Luwin here to check on my injuries and ask where they were treated? I… I’m going to tell them the truth. They have known me for years and are both reasonable, respectful adults. I trust them. They won’t… think less of me if I tell them what happened. 

    The trepidation of sharing his shame to a trusted adult was replaced by fear and dread as Ramsay entered. His tall, muscular body filled the entryway as he pulled the key from the lock. Theon, taking a limping step backwards, opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief.

    “H-how did you? The only peo-people who should have a key are…” he trailed off, flinching as Ramsay closed the door hard behind him and re-locked it.

    “Ned, Luwin and the caretaker? I'm aware. I was late for dinner too, you know. Though not as late as you.” Ramsay chuckled. “And that caretaker, well you’ve seen him,” he held out his hands, miming the size of the man's belly. “Doesn’t miss a meal, that one.” Ramsay grasped the back of Theon’s desk chair, turning it around as he pulled it out. Sitting down with legs spread and leaning back, he smirked at Theon.

    Theon stared at him, not daring to move his eyes away. He knew there was no escape anyway, what was the point? So he stood, like a cornered mouse, and waited for Ramsay to do what he would.

    “While he was getting his first serving of the night, I popped into his chambers and borrowed the key to your room. Took me some time too, lots of things to look through.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He fixed Theon with a disappointed look. The expression made his anxiety increase ten fold.

    “Now, Theon.” He cringed at the scolding tone his name was spoken in. “I thought you learned your lesson about locking doors earlier?” He gestured behind himself to the thing in question. “I was just coming to check on your wounds. I wanted to make sure none of your bandages had slipped. I just wanted to take care of you.” He said sadly, sounding hurt by Theon’s selfishness. Theon stared at him in shock. Did I… hurt his feelings? 

    “I had a feeling you would try something like this, hence the key.” He picked the key up, dangling it before dropping it back onto the table. “Lucky for you I’m happy with how well you behaved at dinner.” Theon let the breath he didn’t know he was holding go. “You listened very well, good boy.” Theon felt his heart swell sickeningly with pride. The ghost of a shy smile pulling at his lips.

    “Now come here.” His smile disappeared. “I just want to check your bandages. My feet are sore from running around all day, getting things for you.” He reached out a hand, raising an eyebrow. Theon clutched his hands to his chest, and slowly inched towards him. Ramsay huffed and rolled his eyes. Once he was within reach he grasped his elbow and pulled him forward, into his lap. Theon gasped and let out a yelp of surprise, squeezing his eyes closed. When all he felt was a warm chest against his back and thick, strong thighs bracketing his own, he cracked his eyes open.

    Ramsay grasped his right hand, still tucked against his chest, and gently pulled it out in front of him. He inspected the bandage around his pinky and removed nail carefully. Theon was baffled at the tenderness with which Ramsay looked him over. 

    Moving on to the next hand, Ramsay just as soft in his touch, he felt a warm breath in his ear. 

    “If you behave, I’ll remember it. Listen to what I say and I can treat you like this all the time. Be the good boy I know you can be.” Ramsay whispered softly.

    Theon shivered. Not in fear or disgust, but something else entirely. 

    “There, all done.” Ramsay said. 

    Theon stared into the fire, feeling small and warm. Despite the proximity of the beast that was Ramsay, he felt safe and protected. He was ready to close his eyes and drift off to sleep in the arms of a predator. 

    A gentle push on his back guided him up and away from Ramsay's chest. Theon had to stop himself from letting out a whine of protest. Large hands on his shoulders turned him around and slowly began applying pressure, pushing him down onto his knees. Equal parts fear and eagerness to please this new kind Ramsay, had him putting up no fight at all.

    Looking up into ice chip eyes Theon waited for instruction. Ramsay smiled and brushed Theon’s hair back off his forehead.

    “Well, sweetling, since I took care of you, I think it's time you take care of me.” Ramsay said softly as he continued to stroke Theon’s hair with one hand while the other unlaced his breeches. Theon's breath caught in his throat. He watched with mounting fear as Ramsay’s already half hard member was freed. Frozen with dread he stared.

    “I‘ll let you choose how you get me off: with your hand or your mouth.” The command reached Theon from far away, but reached him nonetheless. Slowly shaking his head, he looked up at Ramsay, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

    “please, please r-ramsay. can’t i just go-go to bed?” Theon asked, voice wet and just above a whisper. Ramsay's smile dropped and Theon’s heart did the same. Reaching behind himself, Ramsay grasped his knife from the desk. With a finger tip on each end, he held the blade horizontally in between his knees, just in front of Theon’s face. 

    “I was nice enough to give you a choice. Don’t spit on my kindness. Now, choose.” Ramsay's voice was as icy as his eyes. 

    Choking back a sob, Theon reached out, grasping the now fully hard cock in front of him. He realized with horror that Ramsay had gotten fully erect from threatening violence and/or seeing Theon break down. That fact was enough motivation for him to satisfy Ramsay’s command.

    Placing the knife on the desk, Ramsay leaned back and watched Theon with half lidded eyes. 

    He began pumping his hand up and down the shaft in long slow strokes. Careful to keep his pinky, fixed straight with a splint, out of the way. It made his grip awkward and uncoordinated. Still, it was better than the pulsing of the empty space in his gums and the sourness of his jaw being added to. 

    Holding tighter, he started to speed up. This earned a small sigh from Ramsay, which spurred Theon on. Despite his currently lackluster performance, Ramsay knew he would be able to cum if he continued. Manipulating Theon’s thin body, tending to his wounds, and having him follow directions so well at dinner, had him close to finishing already.

    Ramsay hissed in pleasure as Theon dragged his thumb over the head of his cock, rubbing at the slit as he did so. Theon bit his lip and glanced up at Ramsay through the tears clinging to his lashes. He likes it. Maybe if I can get him off soon he wont want anything else. 

    He drew his brows together in determination and concentrated, wrapping his other hand around Ramsay's cock. 

    Working both his hands up and down, he felt the hot skin twitch and jump under his touch. He sped up again, despite the burn in his shoulders and forearms. 

    Bringing one hand up to the head, he massaged the glands there. Whenever Ros had done this to him, he had cum near moments after. He hoped it would have the same effect on Ramsay. 

    “That’s it, good boy.” Ramsay praised through gritted teeth. Theon felt his heart swell with pride. 

    He moved his hands faster and faster, watching Ramsay get closer and closer to his orgasm. He squeezed the head and rubbed the tip of his finger into the slit. As his cock gave a violet twitch Ramsay grabbed the back of Theon’s head, pulled his face forward, and came across his startled expression. 

    Theon closed his eyes just in time as hot cum spurted out across his face. He blinked, feeling it drip down his cheek and onto his lap. He looked numbly at his hands, now by his knees next to a few drops of white. 

    A hand grasped his chin, tilting his head up. Ocean met ice as the two locked gazes. Ramsay smiled broadly and rubbed his thumb against his cheek.

    “Now, let's get you in bed.” Ramsay said as he held his hand and guided him up to his feet. Theon went to wipe the spend off his face, but stopped when Ramsay grasped his wrist and lowered it to his side. He took the hint.

    Standing at his bedside Ramsay pulled back the covers and pushed Theon down to the bed. He sighed as the soft sheets embraced him. Ramsay had taken all but his small clothes off when he re-checked his wounds. He shuffled over a bit as Ramsay sat down next to him on his bed.

    Grabbing a damp cloth from the nightstand, he began to wipe the cum off Theon’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose up at the sensation, though Ramsay was gentle.

    “You were very good today.” Ramsay spoke softly as he continued to wipe Theon’s face clean. “Despite the door locking, obviously. But I know that you’re not used to following directions.” He set the cloth aside and Theon blinked up at him. “I think you deserve a reward.”

    He reached forward and grasped the waistband of Theon’s small clothes, pulling them down before he could make a move to protest. Theon whimpered and brought his hands down to cover himself, but Ramsay stopped him. Pushing his hands back to his sides, Ramsay shook his head.

    “No sweetling, it won’t hurt. It’s a reward, you’ll like it.” To prove his point Ramsay grasped Theon’s limp cock and began to work him to hardness. Theon squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

    With just a few motions Theon was harding already. Ramsay smirked at the near immediate reaction. Theon, horrified with his body, put all his efforts into stifling the moans he felt coming from his throat. 

    Ramsay’s hand was big, much bigger than Theon’s, and calloused from his sword practice. Theon’s cock had been worked by many whores in his lifetime, so having another touch him was not a new experience; But having the strong, rough hands of a man moving up and down his shaft was very different. He found himself falling apart faster than he ever had before.

    Ramsay pumped up and down, the head of Theon’s cock leaking more each time. He smirked as moans and mewls of pleasure leaked from the little islander. Brushing his thumb under the glands and pressing into the slit had Theon’s eyes snapping open and gasping desperately.

    “Aah, Ram-Ramsay!” He cried, reaching forward to grasp onto his shoulder with a trembling hand. Ramsay blinked in surprise but Theon was too lost in the sensations to realize the contact. Theon’s sex life had suffered greatly since Ramsay's arrival, as a result he was already drowning in the moment.

    Ramsay watched as Theon came undone. He loved how slight the boy was, having none of the bulky muscle characteristic to the northerners. The way he writhed, arching his chest up, raising two pink nipples, was just adorable. 

    Not pausing in the pumping of his hand on Theon’s cock, he brushed the tips of his fingers over a perky nipple. Theon keened and pushed up into the touch without thought. Ramsay paused, caught off guard by the pleasure that had brought Theon.

    Whimpering in distress Theon opened his eyes and looked up at Ramsay. Ice met the ocean and Ramsay smirked. Not looking away or breaking his gaze, he leaned down slowly opening his mouth, and planted a sucking kiss onto his nipple. 

    Theon tilled his head back and let out a loud obscene moan. Encouraged by this Ramsay began to play with his other nipple. Rolling the buds in between his fingers and his teeth as he continued to work his cock. Theon lost what little composure he had left.

    His toes curled and shooting stars shot behind his eyes as he came. His orgasm crashed through him, wave after wave. White shot out of his pulsing cock and covered Ramsay's hand and his own stomach.

    Panting and still feeling his orgasm, he barely noticed Ramsay wiping his abdomen clean with a rag and tucking the sheets around him. Blinking up at Ramsay sleepily, Theon awaited his next instructions. 

    “Now pet, where’s the key?” He asked softly, brushing sandy hair from the boy's forehead. Theon didn’t have the breath to answer, lungs still trying to recover, but he didn’t need to speak. The quick glance to the drawer of his nightstand was answer enough. Smiling, Ramsay reached out, taking the brass key and slipping it into his pocket. 

    “Good boy.” He leaned down and kissed Theon on his still panting mouth. It was a chaste kiss by both their standards, no tongue or teeth, but it was still deep and left Theon even more out of breath. 

    Ramsay stood and left, closing the door softly behind him. Theon was asleep in seconds, dreams full of the jingling of keys and clicking of locks.

Chapter Text

    Dust flew up as Jon sent Theon reeling backwards out of the ring with a powerful downward strike. Theon, barely catching himself, staggered upright. He kept his gaze on the ground, cheeks turning pink at his latest defeat. Ramsay was at his side in a moment, smiling ear to ear. 

    “Good try, Theon! I’m sure you’ll get him next time!” He flinched away as Ramsay slung his arm around his shoulder and practically shouted into his ear.

    Jon smirked at the sight of Theon cringing and squeezing his eyes closed. The spar between the two had been quick. Though he had tried to fight, it was clear that Theon’s heart and mind were not invested and he had already retired to another loss. The result was a swift victory for Jon and more bruises for Theon.

    “Well done Jon. That extra practice is showing.” Ser Rodrik said before looking pointedly to Theon. “It’s something you all should be doing.” Ramsay smirked and pulled Theon even closer. He put up no resistance, letting himself be dragged around.

    “Hear that Theon?” Ramsay asked. He nodded silently.  

    Rodrik sighed, telling the boys to go to their lessons with Luwin. The drastic decrease in Theon’s skill was something he could not puzzle out. While Ramsay and Jon had been practicing extra nearly every day, Theon (the one who needed it the most) didn’t touch a sword unless told to. He was struggling to get through even one round of movements on a straw man now. 

    Ser Rodrik had tried talking to the ward a day ago; all Theon had done was stare at the ground and nod silently. He had promised (unconvincingly) to start practicing again at the end of his scolding, but had yet to follow through. Ser Rodrik doubted he ever would.

    He watched the group of four disappear into Winterfell; but not before he saw Ramsay push Theon away and deliver a harsh slap to his ass (not something unusual as the guards did the same to each other jokingly). Theon flinched and rubbed at his sour cheek as he walked ahead of the others. Ramsay and Jon found this unending funny as Robb looked away.

    The sudden and intense ‘friendship’ (or at least physical closeness) between the two wards was another thing Ser Rodrik could not understand. It had been obvious in the beginning that Theon did not like Ramsay at all, and vice versa. Although the longer Ramsay was at Winterfell the quieter and more deferential Theon had become, still they had never truly gotten along. Now they were practically attached at the hip. 

    The teasing was one sided, as it had been a fortnight ago, but now there was a different undertone. Each jape seemed punctuated with a touch or grope from Ramsay. Wandering hands and harsh words seemed to follow the islander around.

    “You really are useless at that.” A hand on the shoulder as Ramsay did whatever it was for Theon that he was ‘useless’ at.

    “You smell like the most delicate ladies, should we call you lady Theon from now on?” Tugging him closer and breathing in deeply at his neck.

    “That's not how you hold a sword, do you want me to run you through?” Hands wrapping around his and readjusting his grip.

    It was not something that just Ser Rodrick had noticed, but the most of Winterfell. Unfortunately for Theon, no one knew the truth that drove Ramsay’s actions.

    No one except Jon.

    The footsteps of the four boys echoed down the hall along with their conversation. Ramsay, Jon and Robb talking about a disarming move one of the guards had shown off today, as Theon walked quietly ahead of them. 

    “I wonder if it would actually work in a battle or if one can only use it in single combat.” Robb said, miming the motions.

    “True, it seems you need a lot of room to execute it.” Jon added.

    “Either way, I’m sure Theon would find it useful.” Ramsay said, loud enough so all four could hear. Theon faltered in his steps at hearing his name, his shoulders drawing up and looking down at the ground. He seemed to shrink in half at Ramsay’s attention.

    “Why’s that?” Jon asked, a smirk spreading on his face. 

    “If he’s up against an unarmed opponent he might have a chance.” Ramsay said, sending the pair into roughing laughter. Theon flinched at the sound. It seemed to him Ramsay had the loudest laugh in all of Westeros. It took up space in the air, leaving no room for anything quieter.

    As of late Jon was becoming just as loud. 

    Robb looked away, fingers fiddling with the fabric of his sleeve. It seemed that the more time spent with Ramsay the more similar his half brother was becoming. Of course his cruelty was only ever directed at Theon, but it was still out of character.

    Maybe Theon was right: all bastards are the same. Robb blinked and shook his head slightly. What am I thinking, that’s not true. Theon has bullied Jon for as long as I can remember, I suppose Jon is just standing up for himself… Theon does seem to have settled down.

    Theon, as if to prove Robb correct, said nothing. As opposed to a few months before he would have had a cruel retort flying back, now he cringed away and in hope the attention would leave him.

    His hopes rarely came true.

    Ramsay closed the distance in between them, now walking alongside Theon. He flung a thick arm over Theon’s drawn up shoulders and sent a wicked grin behind himself to Jon.

    “Don’t be upset, Theon. We were just joking.” Ramsay said, pulling him closer, arm now practically around his neck. “I’m sure you could handle anyone in a fight, fearsome kraken that you are.” He said, lowering his voice and leaning in, breath hot against Theon’s ear. Theon squeezed his eyes closed and swallowed.

    “I’m not upset.” His voice was small and shaky, same as his frame.

    “Good! I know how sensitive you are.” 

    “Most ladies are.” Jon chimed in, voice just as cruel as Ramsays. “But we wouldn’t know anything about fine women such as Theon, low born that we are.” 

    “I don’t know about you Jon, but I plan to marry a high born lady and become a lord myself!” Ramsay said laughing. He leaned closer to Theon, voice husky and low. “Maybe I’ll marry Theon, gods know every one would believe he’s no man.” 

    “I-i am no… lady.” Theon cursed the waver in his voice. 

    “Could have fooled me.” Jon said, tone calm and cool. Yet Theon could pick out something beneath it. Something that wanted more than to bark insults, but to bite into soft flesh. Something that was hungry and wanted to feast.

    “Boys.” Luwin addressed them as they rounded the corner. Robb sighed a breath of relief at the arrival of an adult. Hoping that this would end the teasing he found himself witnesses to. Theon, realizing Luwin was watching him, tried to straighten up and steel his expression. He failed.

    Three of them chorused a greeting to the Maester as they filled into his study. Ramsay sat next to Theon, as he had begun doing every class. Theon was not surprised to feel a large hand placed on his thigh.

    Same as in the training yard, Ramsay missed no opportunity to lay a hand upon him. 

    “What part are you at now? Don’t tell me you are as slow a reader as you are a swordsman.” Spoken into his ear as Ramsay leaned over him, hand on his shoulder, to see the page he was reading.

    “Let me borrow that for a moment.” Said as strong hands grasped the quill out of Theon’s own and used it for himself.

    “You don’t need help with what Maester wanted us to read do you? I know how confused you get.” An insult whispered into his ear as their shoulders pushed together.

    And of course the hand grasping his thigh. It found its familiar place almost immediately as they sat down. It wandered up and down his leg, pinching and squeezing at the dwindling muscle beneath it. 

    Theons body was not the only thing of his dwindling away. Each pinch, stroke, grasp, brush, slap, and caress chipped away at his ability to fight back. He was blatantly ignoring the fact that he had stopped fighting back some time ago.

    Jon, Ramsay and Theon walked out of Winterfell and into its training yard. After Luwins lesson, Catelyn had called Robb away, leaving Theon at the other's mercy. He was sandwiched in between them, Ramsay’s hand on the small of his back, ushering him along.

    He hated Ramsay. He despised him. Yet for all the hatred he told himself he harbored, deep down he blushed and tittered over how Ramsay wanted him near. His brothers never wanted him around, and when he scampered after them he was often left in tears. Ramsay forced him to be close, and he did say that if he followed instructions he would be kind. Kindness or no, someone actually wanting him around had little Theon melting.

    As the trio neared the training ring Theon moved away, towards the stables where Smiler was currently. Ramsay watched him go unconcerned. They had all been told that a large snowstorm (early, but not unusual for this region) was moving toward Winterfell. A raven, exhausted and frost covered, had arrived earlier that day with the news. The bird was now being nursed back to health by Sansa and her friend Jeyne. 

    At the information Jon and Ramsay had decided (unsurprisingly) to spend their free time later that day sparring. Theon, after being asked by Ramsay, was going to see Smiler. 

    He felt guilty beyond words at his recent absence from the barn. The healing flayed section of his calf made it impossible for him to ride, and his missing nails and broken fingers made grooming more than difficult. That, plus Ramsay pulling him along, made it so he had not seen Smiler for seven days after Ramsay had… visited him. He had only begun visiting again three days ago. He wanted to spend some more time with him before they were stuck inside from the snowstorm.

    Jon retrieved a training sword from the rack and swung it in his hand as Ramsay called after Theon.

    “Don’t be late for dinner, you need all the food you can get with how scrawny you are!” Theon looked back at them blushing, and nodded before scampering off. 

    Jon and Theon’s eyes locked for a heartbeat as he turned to leave. Theon had felt the gaze of both bastards in recent days. Along with the teasing it seemed Jon was following Ramsay in watching Theon constantly. The most concerning thing was that Jon looked at him the same way Ramsay did. Their gaze was identical in one thing: it’s hunger.

    Whereas before he did not know what that hunger was for, now he knew all too well. It was a craving that would only be sated by flesh. Theon’s flesh.

    Jon watched as Theon left them. Jon had become increasingly aware of his slight build, the sway of his hips and the blush that reached all the way down his neck. The largest change Jon found in him was his eyes. Before they were harsh, judging, self righteous, and cruel. Now they were cautious, meek, reserved, and submissive. The islanders gaze went from ‘I don’t care how you feel’ to ‘how can I make you like me’.

    It was a delicious change.

    Ramsay drew his gaze back to Jon after Theon was out of sight. He grinned and tapped the broad side of his sword against Jon’s arm. This roused him and he dragged his eyes away from where Theon had disappeared to.

    Storm clouds met ice. Ramsay smiled bigger and raised one eyebrow. 

    “…what?” Jon asked, pushing Ramsay's sword away with his own.

    “Nothing, it’s just nice to see you find him more enjoyable this way too.” Ramsay said, dropping into a fighting stance. Jon said nothing as he readied his sword and did the same. “Come on, you know he’s much better like this!” Ramsay punctuated his words with a swing at Jon’s chest.

    “Yes, yes, fine!” Jon blocked and swung back. “I do like the change in his personality a bit. He’s nowhere near as much the pompous asshole he was before.” 

    “I agree, but you can still spot some of ‘lord Theon’ in him.” Ramsay began to properly attack now, raining down blow after blow. 

    “I can’t say I see any of that left, if I’m being honest.” Jon blocked each swing.

    “Well most of it comes out at night, when I’m really putting him in his place… you know, I could use some help with it.” Jon faltered and Ramsay took the opening. Jon fell squarely on his ass outside the ring, still staring at Ramsay. 

    “I’m being honest. You know if it wasn’t for… that he would be just as horrible as he was before. If you really want to get… even with him for how he treated you for years, you can join us tonight.” Ramsay reached out a hand to help him up.

    The storm in Jon’s eyes raged with conflict. They stared at each other, words passing between them unspoken. The clouds in Jon’s eyes seemed to grow darker, colder, icier. He reached up his hand to Ramsay’s.

    “… just for tonight.” They locked their hands together.

    Ramsay grinned ear to ear as he hoisted Jon up. Standing at the same level, Jon smirked back.

    The two bastards sauntered into the dining hall laughing loud enough that all gathered heard. Theon abruptly ended the quiet conversation he was having with Robb at their arrival. Theon and Robb had begun speaking again. It was nowhere near as close or friendly as before, but Theon was thankful to have a conversation with someone who wasn’t a bastard.

    Theon was sitting across from Robb at the end of the table. He was sure Robb had not forgiven him to the point of sitting side by side. The only two open seats were next to Theon and Robb, the last at the table. 

    Theon looked down at his food, dreading the ice gaze that would soon sit next to him. It was not ice, but storm clouds that settled so close. He looked up, confused from Ramsay to Jon. They had switched their usual seating arrangement. It was Ramsay who sat next to Robb and Jon next to Theon.

    Why is Jon sitting with me instead of Ramsay? Did I do something to upset Ramsay? Even if I did, It’s not like I care! Theon steeled his gaze at his plate of food. I’m glad it’s gloomy Jon next to me. At least now I won’t have Ramsay’s hands all over me, the disgusting bastard. He glanced up quickly to Ramsay, peeking out from behind his hair. Ramsay had begun speaking to Robb, ignoring Theon. I hope I didn’t make him mad.

    “You should see it, Robb. We learned it in an afternoon.” Ramsay said, looking to Jon.

    “The disarming move? It’s not as complicated once you understand it.” Jon said, with a tense shrug.

    “It’s all about the grip.” Ramsay demonstrated, holding his hand out above the table. He looked back at Jon, excited. He must be really happy about this stupid move, never seen him so enthusiastic.

    Robb laughed and pulled Ramsay’s arms down. Ramsay let him, glancing at Jon once again with anticipation. 

    “What did Lady Stark want?” Jon asked Robb stiffly, looking away from Ramsay.

    “Oh, she wanted me to try on this new doublet she sewed for me.” Robb responded, glancing to his mother. Always the perfect son. Theon thought bitterly. “She got this new fabric and she wanted to-“ Robb continued on but Theon had stopped listening.

    Drawing his brows together, he looked down at his lap quickly. He was not mistaken. Jon’s leg was pressed against his. Their thighs flush, the difference in thickness obvious. Can he not hear? He must be trying to get closer to Robb so he can hear better. Maybe he has a new found interest in sewing…? 

    Theon shuffled over inconspicuously, putting distance between him and Jon. Looking back up he Locked eyes with Ramsay. That icy gaze was fixed intently upon him, watching his every move. He quickly looked back to Robb, embarrassed and feeling oddly defensive over the contact with Jon.

    “The arm's eye was much too small, felt like I was going to lose a limb. Took her another hour to fix that-“ Hard muscle pushed against his leg again. Confused even more, he glanced quickly from Jon to Robb to Ramsay and back to where their skin touched. Jon’s leg was warm, sending heat into Theon.

    … Is this a new game? I'm sure he can hear just fine. Maybe he doesn’t have enough room? Theon again pushed away, trying not to draw attention to what was happening. With just an inch between them now, Theon found he could not move anymore or risk Jeyen telling him to move over, alerting everyone. 

    No sooner had he settled in his new place did he feel Jon against his side once more. He looked down and watched in horror as Jon’s large, calloused hand grasped his thigh.

    “Be still, less you want everyone in the hall to know how harassed you are by a bastard.” Jon said under his breath so only Theon could hear. His eyes grew wide and he looked up frantically to Ramsay. 

    Ramsay was already watching him, a wicked smirk on his face. What? Did he put Jon up to this? It must be a game. Why- why would he… Theon felt his blood run cold. Each hungry look Jon had given him in recent weeks seemed to weigh on his shoulders now. This is all it is. Nothing else will come of it. It’s just a game, it will be over by dinner. This is all he wants.

    Theon told himself this, though he knew it was a lie.

    Theon did not eat another bite the rest of the night. His stomach tied itself in knots with each passing second. It was only at the end of the meal, when all were rising to retire to their chambers, that Jon removed his hand. 

    Theon stood shakily, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He made his way numbly out of the hall, trailing behind Ramsay, Jon, and Robb as they continued their conversation. It was only when a chorus of ‘see you tomorrow’s were heard that Theon looked up. 

    They had come to where the hall their chambers were down branched off of the main corridor. Robb was about to continue down to his own chambers when he stopped. Softly grasping Theon’s hand, he stopped the islander in his tracks. He waited a moment as Ramsay and Jon walked further away before speaking quietly.

    “Are you okay? It seems like something is wrong.” He asked, fixing Theon with a quietly concerned expression. “You can talk to me.” 

    Theon was stunned into silence. He opened and closed his mouth, too many words and yet not enough trying to come out of him. His heart screamed at him to break down and confess it all as his mind screamed for him to smile and say Robb was being silly. Before he could choose one to listen to, Ramsay interrupted him.

    “Theon! You plan to keep the young lord up all night?” Ramsay called from where he stood by their doors with Jon. Theon looked away from them and back at Robb.

    “I-I’m fine.” It seemed that Robb stared into his soul at that moment. “Good night Robb.”

    “…Good night Theon.” He said with a sigh, turning around and walking further down the hall and around a corner. Theon reluctantly made his way to his room, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. 

    As he came further down the hall he felt two pairs of eyes on him. Looking up slowly, the dread in his gut doubled. Ramsay and Jon were both standing at his door, waiting for him. 

    Before he knew what he was doing he whirled around and began to sprint away. He had just opened his mouth to yell for Robb to come back when the world tilted as he came crashing down. 

    From Theon's back where he had tackled and pinned him down, Ramsay looked back at Jon. 

    “See? I told you he still has a lot to learn.” He said as Jon approached. Jon squatted down in front of Theon, picking his head up by a fistful of sandy hair. He grinned as he looked into Theon’s tearing eyes. 

    “I see exactly what you mean. But I think the two of us are more than capable of teaching him everything he needs to know.”

Chapter Text

    Considering all his partially healed injuries and how thin he had gotten, Theon put up a good fight. 

    Ramsay took his thrashing legs and hoisted up his lower half as Jon grabbed his flailing arms with a crushing grip. Suspended between the two, he was out of options. He gulped in as much air as his lungs could hold. Opening his mouth he began to scream.

    “HELP, SOMEON-“ Theon’s voice was shrill and panicked, echoing off the stone walls. 

    Jon, releasing one of Theon’s wrists, slapped his hand over his mouth. His cry for help cut short. He shook his head violently, trying to get Jon’s hand off. He simply clamped down harder.

    The two bastards began carrying (more like dragging) him down the hall. Despite all his efforts, their hold on him was unshakable. His muffled cries for help fell on deaf ears. 

    In his movement, Theon saw over Ramsay’s shoulder the door to his room open. He knew what would happen there. He was familiar with the horror that waited for him. Gods be damned, but he would not let that happen again.

    “Fuck!” Jon cursed violently as Theon’s teeth sank into the palm of his hand. He wrenched his arm back, tearing his hand free. Before he could think better, his fist was colliding with Theon’s forehead. A thwack sounded through the hall as Theon’s struggles ended. Ramsay looked from the now limp Theon to the fuming Jon who was inspecting his hand.

    “Told you he was still bad.” Ramsay said with a slight smile. Jon grunted as he flexed his hand open and closed. Theon didn’t seem to have done much damage, it still hurt like the seven hells thought. Reaching back down to grasp Theon once again, Jon gave a nod to Ramsay and the pair began making their way to the open door.

    The bastards froze however at the sound of quickly approaching footsteps. 

    Had Theon’s cry for help reached Robb? Did it alert a patrolling guard? Or worse yet, had lord Stark decided to check in on the three?

    “For fucks sake Ramsay. Don’t you have anywhere else to handle this?” Damon asked, sighing and glancing behind him as he approached with Skinner.

    Ramsay let out a sigh of relief. Jon looked between the two confused. How do these guards know Ramsay? 

    “You scared the shit of me. What are you two doing here?” Ramsay asked.

    “We were stationed by Lord Stark’s chambers. He heard the shouting and sent us to see what was happening.” Damon said, looking at Theon’s unconscious body suspended between the two of them.

    “Lucky thing we were the ones he sent.” Skinner added licking his lips as he eyed Theon.

    “Ha, though it would be entertaining to see how good ol’ Ned would handle this.” Ramsay said, causing all but Jon (and obviously Theon) to chuckle.

    “We better get back before he sends someone else. We’ll tell him you all were… playing a game.” Damon looked at Jon then to Theon again. “…You’ll let us have a go at him too, right?”

    “Sure,” Ramsay said with a shrug. “Give me a week and we can make a night of it.” The two grinned at each other as they left. Jon watched the pair leave from over his shoulder. Once they could no longer hear their fading footsteps, Jon looked to Ramsay.

    “Friends of yours?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

    “Something like that.” Ramsay said dismissively. “Now let’s get him moved before he wakes up. He's feisty tonight.” The two hoisted Theon up and made their way to his chambers, sure to lock the door behind themselves.

    What an odd dream. The waves continued to rock Theon back and forth, up and down. I haven’t been on a boat since I left home. Where are all the stars? He could see nothing other than inky blackness, and only hear echoes of voices and footsteps.

    Taking a deep breath he could not smell the ocean, only the scent of forest and pelted fur reached him. I must be just off shore. Suddenly the waves ceased, and a new collection of smells came to him: cotton sheets and fresh linen. Shit, must have run aground. He tried to lift himself up, raise an arm and climb out of the boat, but something pushed him back down, into the soft cotton of the hull and away from where he needed to be.

    Ramsay smiled as he pushed Theon’s arms back down. A soft, frustrated whimper came from the unconscious boy. Gods, he is awfully cute. Ramsay glanced up at Jon as he thought this, gauging his reaction. The smile fell from his face.

    Jon was standing at the foot of the bed watching Ramsay slowly stripping the islander. His arms were crossed and his face was full of apprehension. He cursed silently at Theon. You just had to make a fuss about this. It took me long enough to convince him to fucking help and now he’s getting scared. 

    A soft fluttering of eyelids and a groan was all the warning he got that Theon was waking up. An ocean gaze slowly focused in on Ramsay unlacing doublet as he lay atop the bed. 

    “Wha…what are you-“ In a sudden rush all his memories came back to him. His dream, that felt so real, was nothing but wishful thinking.

    He threw his body up and tried to scramble off the bed. Ramsay, expecting as much, grabbed both his wrists and pinned him to the mattress. Theon began to writhe and kick his legs out desperately.

    “NO, no no no no! Let go! Stop, let me go!” He shrieked. In his flailing he spotted Jon behind Ramsay, immediately rage intermixed with fear. With his pride bubbling to the surface he began spitting insults at his two attackers.

    “Get your hands off me bastard!” Tears began to gather in his eyes as he screamed. “You pair of repulsive low borns, don’t touch me! I’m a lord, you can’t do this to me, you-you unloved, waste of space, bastards !!” 

    His words hung in the air as he stilled momentarily, catching his breath. Ramsay blinked, surprised that he still had that in him. I thought I had beaten that word out of him.

    A moment of silence followed, then the rustling of fabric as Jon climbed onto the bed. Gripping both his ankles, he pinned Theon’s legs down and nodded to Ramsay. The apprehension gone from his expression. In its place was grim determination. Theon had not thrown ‘bastard’ at him in nearly two months. The sudden string of insults brought forward years of remembered bullying. The constant slights and japes at his expense. Entertainment wrought from his misery. It was all he needed to steel his resolve.

    Ramsay grinned as he returned to his work. It took longer now, with Theon thrashing and Ramsay having to pin his wrists together in one hand. Unlacing Theon doublet one handed was difficult, even more so with his wriggling, but he was spurred on by excitement. He hadn't had a new friend to share in the fun in a while.

    Once done with his doublet, Ramsay pushed his shift up his chest, over his arms and around his wrists. He did not make the mistake of releasing Theon’s arm without a contingency plan like he had before. With his abdomen now bare Theon’s tears began breaking free and rolling down his cheeks. Smiling, Ramsay looked to Jon.

    “Get his breeches off, would you?” Ramsay's smile faded once he saw the turmoil in Jon’s face. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Are you joking? Make up your mind Jon! 

    Jon’s hesitation was not lost on Theon either. At the opportunity of convincing Jon to stop, he began to babble words of kindness at him.

    “Please Jon, I-I know this isn’t you! You're better than this!” He took a shuddering gasp as tears continued falling from his eyes. “You’re-you’re a Stark, your family would never approve of this. I’m sure-“ He was cut off by Ramsay's barking laughter.

    “That’s not what you were saying before. He wasn’t a Stark for all these years until now? I’m sure you must feel wonderful now Jon, you’re no longer a low born bastard!” Ramsay said. Jon stared at Theon, the words from both of them mulling around in his mind. 

    Setting his jaw forward and locking his eyes on the laces of Theon’s breeches, he released his grip on his legs and began undoing them.

    “N-no!” Theon cried as a gasping sob racked his body. “Jon please ! Don’t-don’t do this!” 

    “ Shut your mouth . Unless you want me to flay more of your skin off.” Ramsay hissed in his face. 

    Jon was monotonous and steady in his work. The only sign of his earlier unsureness being the slightest tremble in his hands. Once he was done unlacing, he did not bother to look up at Ramsay or Theon. Jon knew if he looked at Theon in that moment he would lose his nerve.

    Gripping Theons waistband at either side of his hips, he pulled down in one quick motion. Fully stripping his lower half bear, Jon threw the breaches off the side of the bed and stared. Jon had seen Theon naked before, but this was different, much different. The childhood indifference to nakedness was long gone, replaced by a fully grown hunger.

    Jon drank in the sight before him in this new light. Theon’s thighs were trembling and his usually flat stomach was heaving with his sobs. His skin was pale in the fire light, accented by soft reds and pinks of healing wounds. Theon’s cock was soft, sat on top full balls and sheltered by a bush of dark, sandy blonde hair. He pressed his legs together in a desperate attempt to cover himself. It did little other than irritate his attackers.

    “ Please , nnnooooo!” Theon moaned desperately. His tears flowed freely and he sobbed openly. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his head away. A useless attempt at escaping what was happening to him.

    “There, now was that so hard?” Ramsay asked with a sadistic grin. Theon continued to cry, his body heaving with each breath he took. “Let’s show Jon what you’ve been working on, Theon.” He said, taking Theon’s shift from around his wrists, carefully to not release his arms. Leaning up and over him, Ramsay used the shift to tie his trembling hands to the head board. 

    Sitting back, Ramsay scanned the length of Theon’s body. Thin and lean, his rib cage gasped with each breath he took. Arms stretched above him, the taper of his waist and slight winding of his hips now on full display. He shook like a leaf under the gaze of Ramsay and Jon, sure of what was to come next.

    The same thought rang in the two attackers' minds: He’s gorgeous.

    Licking his lips, Ramsay reached forward and grasped one of his legs, hoisting it up and away. Immediately, Theon tried to clamp his leg back down but Ramsay blocked it with his body. 

    “Take his other leg, you’ll want to see this.” Ramsay said to Jon. Slowly he reached out a hand, placing it gently on Theon’s thigh. The new touch caused Theon to still, shifting his eyes to see the contact between them. As he did so his eyes locked with Jon’s. Theon opened his mouth, about to plead with him again, but something unspoken passed between their gaze. 

    Theon shut his mouth, closed his eyes and buried his face in his raised arm. Jon squeezed his thigh in a bruising grip, as he shoved his leg open. 

    With both legs held apart, Theon’s hole was on full display. Jon felt his breath catch in his throat. It was the first time he had seen such an intimate part of another so close up. Theon’s hole was still irritated and healing from Ramsay's first attack. Pink and red, it was slightly puffy and it clenched at the exposure. 

    Ramsay smiled at the sight and Jon’s reaction. Such an innocent Stark. We’ll be sure to fix that, won’t we Theon? Ramsay thought as he reached for the nightstand next to the bed. Still holding Theon’s leg, he grasped the vile of primrose oil and uncorked it with his teeth.

    Glancing at Jon, he slowly trickled the oil onto Theon’s hole. The substance glisinded in the fire light as it covered his ass and ran down, between his cheeks to pool on the bed. Running a finger up his crack, Ramsay coated his pointer and middle fingers. Jon swallowed audibly.

    Slowly but firmly, Ramsay began to work his middle finger into Theon. The sensation drew a gasp from him. Snapping his eyes open, he watched in horror as Ramsay started sliding his finger in and out methodically. 

    “Stop, plea-se stop. Please, don’t do-do this.” Theon choked out. Ramsay added another finger and continued to work him open.

    It didn’t take nearly as long as the first time to get him loosened up. Ramsay had been making nightly visits for a fortnight to Theon to ‘apply medicine’. It was a poorly disguised excuse to acustom his muscles to the intrusion. As well as accustoming his mind to his proper place.

    The door opened and his heart dropped. 

    “Wh-what are you doing here?” Theon’s voice trembled, causing Ramsay's grin to widen. “Please Ramsay, don’t. Not again, please.” He shook his head, pushing himself further up the bed. “If you do-do it again I’ll really get hurt.” He looked at Ramsay with pleading eyes. 

    His gaze was met with ice. Cold, malevolent ice.

    “No, silly Theon. I’m here to treat your wounds again.” He revealed the numerous treatments he would apply again. “Aren’t I nice?” Theon shrunk away as he sat down on the bed. “I would hate to have you in pain”

***

    “There, that’s it.” Ramsay hissed out between clenched teeth. Theon felt a sickening bubble of pride at his words. 

    Tightening his grip on Ramsay's pulsing cock, his timid strokes became more sure. The praise showered down on him slowly crowding out his fear. This did not go unnoticed by Ramsay.

***

    “I’m fine, really. I don’t need any medicine.” Theon rushed out as Ramsay backed him into his room. 

    “Oh, that’s wonderful! Then I can just fuck you tonight instead.” Theon’s eyes went wide as he started to shake his head.

    “W-well, I don’t think… may-maybe we could, just…” 

    “I know that’s what you want. Or… are you lying to me?” Ramsay asked, voice still and quiet in a way that Theon knew ment trouble. 

    He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He could only find one solution, one way to get out of this without unbearable pain: obey.

***

    Theon whined as Ramsay gave a particularly strong jab to his sweet spot with his fingers. The medical cream had enough slip to eliminate the dry tug of skin on skin. Ramsay scissored him slightly causing him to gasp.

    “Your cunt feels much better. I can tell it’s getting used to taking things now, not such a little virgin anymore.” He smiled, slapping one ass cheek as he pulled almost all the way out to tease at his rim. “Always knew you were a whore.” 

***

    Ramsay groaned deep in his throat as he fisted Theon’s hair, guiding his head up and down his cock. Theon, eyes closed and gagging, tried to get Ramsay to finish quickly. 

    The thought of biting down flickered through his mind. The remembered feeling of his teeth sinking into hot flesh was accompanied by the excruciating pain of a dislocated jaw and still raw, empty tooth socket. 

    He swirled his tongue around the head of his cock instead.

    It was easier this way.

***

    “What’s this?” Theon looked from the ground up to Ramsay. He was standing by his nightstand, holding up the vile of primrose oil and looking at Theon with a raised eyebrow and sly smile. “Oil at your bedside? I’m impressed by your depravity.” Theon’s eyes widened as he shook his head, blushing all the way down below the collar of his loose night shift (currently the only thing he had on).

    “No, it’s not for that!” 

    “Oh? Then what’s it for?” 

    Theon said nothing, not wanting to reveal to Ramsay yet another tender part of his psyche. Ramsay’s smirk grew wider as he set the vile back down.

    “No need to be embarrassed little Theon. I’ll indulge in all your sick desires.”

***

    “Look at that. I’ve just started and already I can get three fingers in.” Ramsay said from his position between Theon’s shaking thighs. After nearly ten days of daily ‘treatment’ Theon’s ass was much faster to relax. It was not lost on either of the boys.

    “There, yo-you’ve put the cream on.” Theon took a trembling breath, holding back a groan. “Can’t we be finished for-for tonight?”

    “You think just two layers of salve is enough? No, no, we should do at least four.” 

    By the time Ramsay placed the lid back on the cream he had applied six.

***

    “Well, Theon, I’m about to make you very happy.” The islander lifted his head from the mattress and looked back over his shoulder at Ramsay. He was face down with his knees tucked under himself, propping up his ass where Ramsay had four fingers inside him. 

    A breathy ‘what’ from Theon had Ramsay's grin widening.

    “The last of your cuts are almost healed! I think just a day or two more and you’ll be ready to take my cock again!” Theon shook his head at Ramsay's words and began to protest. He was quickly cut off by his own moan as Ramsay prodded at his sweet spot. 

    Ramsay chuckled as Theon, ashamed, buried his face back into the mattress.

    “Here Jon.” Ramsay said, extracting his fingers and looking to the boy at his side. “He’s still pretty tight. We need him nice and loose.” Theon whimpered and turned his face away, closing his eyes. “You can open him up the rest of the way.”

    Jon swallowed and shuffled over, so he was centered in between Theon’s legs. He looked at Theon’s hole and swallowed hard. Oil dribbled from the puckered entrance, causing the pink and red skin to shine. He felt a stirring in his breeches.

    Looking up under his brow, he saw red rimmed ocean eyes staring at him. The islanders face was a flushed mess of tears and snot. His cock twitched with interest as Theon looked at him with a silent plea in his eyes. 

     I’ve come this far. Why stop now?

    Setting his jaw, he looked back down at his hole. Slowly he reached out a finger, hesitating just before he made contact, and swiped up his crack as Ramsay had. Finger now slick he placed the tip in the center of his hole. He applied slight pressure and entered Theon with little resistance. 

    Theon had learned that clenching and tightening up only made it more painful. The best thing to do was try to relax. Like most things with Ramsay, fighting only made it worse.

    Theon whimpered as his face scrunched up with (mostly emotional) discomfort. 

    Ramsay watched the scene unfold like the proud mentor he was. Once sure that Jon was fully committed he left him and moved to sit beside Theon’s head. Teary eyes looked at him, resigned to his fate. Ramsay stroked his cheek, admiring the sight. His hand traveled down to his jaw and he lightly grasped it, turning his head towards him. One hand still on his jaw, he used his other to shove his waistband down, freeing his fully hard cock. Gently, he placed the tip of his cock against Theon’s closed lips.

    “Open up, sweetling.” He said with a smile. Theon, lip quivering, closed his eyes and did as he said. 

    The moment Theon felt Ramsay’s cock head push past his lips his tears ran freely. It hurt. Not only did it hurt his still healing jaw and gums, but also his dignity. Though Theon didn’t feel he had any left to hurt anymore.

    As Theon began to work his head up and down Ramsay's thick length, Jon continued to open him up. 

    Jon had never felt anything like it. A tight, gripping heat that wrapped around his finger. The warmth gave way and pulsed against his finger. The idea that his cock would experience the same had his breeches getting even tighter. 

    He was still skeptical as to if a cock could actually fit inside Theon at all. This was fully uncharted territory for Jon. He knew how to fuck someone in theory. Although he had never imagined that his first time would be with a man. He never thought he would be attracted to any man in such a way. But the act of fingering Theon open had him tingling in a way he hadn’t expected.

    He had just been slowly pumping his pointer finger in and out, unsure as to what he should do. The fact that Theon had not died suddenly from Jon’s attentions gave him the confidence to explore.

    Pulling his finger out so only the tip was left, he cautiously slipped in another. Continuing with the steady, gentle fucking, Jon glanced up to Theon’s face. 

    He was flushed, bobbing his head up and down with his eyes closed in concentration. Tears coated his cheeks and a line of snot ran from his nose. Small whimpers and gags coming from his throat as Ramsay watched him, eyes half lidded.

    Jon’s cock jumped in his breeches. Looking back down at Theon’s pucker, currently stretched around his two fingers, he began to move with a purpose.

    Picking up speed he adjusted the angle of his movements. He opened his fingers apart slightly inside him, feeling the slick, warm walls give way. This earned a slightly louder whimper from Theon.

    Pushing back in and forward, he brushed against something in Theon that made him yelp and snap his eyes open. Jon froze and looked up.

    “Don’t worry, you just found his sweet spot.” Ramsay said with a chuckle, seeing the worried expression on Jon’s face. “Keep playing with that and he might cum just from his ass. He loves it, don’t you little Theon?” Ramsay ruffled his hair and began moving inside his mouth again.

    Jon, still cautious, moved his fingers back to that spot. Skimming across it again, he found it to be about the size of a quail’s egg and spongy soft. The gentle teasing had Theons hole sucking him in. Jon didn’t know that was possible.

    Moving his fingers more vigorously, he continued loosening him up, with each pass rubbing over that spot. Theon seemed to be enjoying himself at Jon’s attentions. He could hear soft little moans and mewls coming from his throat.

    Can’t you take your cock out of his mouth for a second? I want to hear him properly.

    Exploring this new found power he began to tease that magic little spot inside Theon. Jon picked up speed and practically rammed his fingers across his sweet spot. At that Theon’s back arched up off the bed and his cock was quickly hardening. Both Jon and Ramsay knew that the islander was currently seeing stars behind his closed eyes.

    Jon scissored his fingers, watching the oil soaked hole open around him with a wet schmuck . In one fluid movement he brought his fingers together and jammed them directly in the center of Theon’s spot with as much force as he dared. 

    The action caused Theon to shoot his head forward as his whole body convulsed, sending Ramsay's cock head punching into the back of his throat. Theon spluttered around the hot member, choking in honesty. Ramsay paid him no mind and continued fucking his mouth, not letting him catch his breath.

    Jon watched in horror as Theon started turning blue.

    “U-uh, Ramsay, wait a second. I, um, don’t think he can breathe. He looks a little blue.” Jon said, eyebrows drawing together and fingers holding still inside him.

    “Hm? Oh he’s fine! You know how he loves to overreact.” Ramsay responded, hips moving at the same punishing speed as before. “We could do whatever we want to him and he would thank us. Trust me, he’s been wanting this for a while.” He smiled down at Theon, who had tears, snot and drool dripping down his face. “I've heard him in here. You can hear into the other room clear as day through the fireplace. He would be in here practically each night moaning and whining for a cock as he fingered his little cunt. Trust me when I tell you he’s more depraved than either of us.” Jon, blushing slightly, looked at Theon with wide eyes. The islander felt his shocked gaze on him, and started blushing himself. “That little vile of oil is his. Even the most used whores need something to ease the way.”

    Ramsay stopped his hips, Theon’s nose buried in the bush of hair at the base of his cock, and looked down at him grinning.

    Theon was frozen. The weight of storm and ice gazes on him. He thought there was nothing left of himself to still be violated. He was wrong. From the ashes of his dignity rose shame and mortification.

    It was too much. Physically, exposed and violated was something he was becoming accustomed to. But to have his private actions shared with his molesters, one of which he had known for years, was more than his shattered pride could bear.

    He bit.

    Teeth sunk into hot flesh and a roar of pain erupted from Ramsay's grinning mouth. Jon jumped at the sound, snapping his eyes down to where Theon’s jaw was clenching. Ramsay was ripping at Theon’s hair, trying to pull his head off him. Theon held fast. 

    Jon rushed forward and grabbed Theon by the neck and hauled backwards. At the same time Ramsay freed one of his hands from sandy locks and punched down at Theon’s nose with all his might. A wet crunch sounded through the room and a moment after Theon was being dragged off him by his neck. 

    Theon looked at Ramsay, out of breath and defiant, blood pouring down his face from his nose. His hands had come out of their makeshift restraints in the struggle and he brought them up to his neck where Jon’s grip was still tight.

    “You fucking bitch.” Ramsay spat at him, hand clutching at his aching member. “You’re going to regret that.” It was only then that Theon saw Ramsay's other hand wrapping around the handle of his dagger, the same dagger he had used to flay him before. “Jon, hold him down.”

    Jon didn't see most of what Ramsay was doing. He was too busy trying to keep his grip on the thrashing islander beneath him. But after the eternity or so that it took for Ramsay to finish he got more than an eyeful. A glance at Theon’s freshly skinned ring toe was more than he needed to see. 

    After Ramsay was done he let Jon take the gag out of Theon’s mouth. The gasping shuddering pleas and apologies were more than enough to get both Jon and Ramsay hard again. 

    After a quick bandage Jon had the opportunity of learning how to dislocate someone’s jaw. It was not something he or Theon enjoyed.

    After, Theon was left, mouth hanging open and sobbing, Ramsay fucked his mouth again. He didn’t finish though, instead pulling out and offering the warm, wet heat to Jon. 

    Jon was unsure what exactly to do at first, but he quickly figured it out.

    “Shit.” Jon whispered under his breath as he pumped long and slow inside of Theon’s mouth. The hot, wet cavity was much more inviting now that he wouldn’t get his cock bit off.

    Taking fistfuls of dark blonde hair, Jon guided Theon’s head up and down his length. Pressing in as deep as he could he felt the back of Theon’s throat flutter and flex around his cock head. He groaned aloud at the sensation.

    Theon sat docile and exhausted on the mattress, taking what Jon gave him. It was much easier to ignore what humiliation was happening to him with the excruciating pain radiating from his foot. He sat with his legs folded under him and his hands placed by his knees, supporting himself. From Jon’s view kneeling in front of him, he looked remarkably dog-like.

    Watching the whole scene unfold from a few feet away was Ramsay, jerking his closed fist up and down his cock. Though he had a ring of teeth marks around the base of his member, he seemed more or less fine. The anger at Theon’s behavior, and later his sweet cries, had him feeling much better.

    His ice gaze fixated on Theon’s pained face as Jon pumped in and out of his mouth. As much as he loved being the one tormenting Theon, being able to watch the whole scene unfold certainly had its appeal. Theon’s face scrunching up each time his nose was buried in the dark hair at the base of Jon’s cock was particularly cute at this angle.

    The satisfaction of pulling strips of skin off Theon’s toe was more than enough to get his cock interested again. The bright red that flowed from the bloodied appendage was what got him fully hard. Theon’s muffled screeching was the cherry on top.

    The more both boys continued the faster their movements became. Theon’s head pumping back and forth as Ramsay's hand did the same. Ramsay tightened his grip, running his thumb over his slit. 

    Jon tilted his head back, eyes closed. He basked in the wet heat that surrounded his member. He thrust in deep, keeping his hips flush for a moment. Theons tongue twitched at the action. The back of his throat seemed to be practically milking his cock. 

    Jon felt his balls tighten up and the wave of his orgasm about to crash over him. He panicked. He had never emptied inside of anyone before, let alone someone’s mouth. Theon was already in rough shape. He had practically lost consciousness from Ramsay doing basically the same. What if he really choked? 

    At the last moment he withdrew his cock from his mouth. Just as it passed his lips he came. The hot, white cum emptied itself across Theon's face. Jon groaned as lightning tingled through his body. The last spurts landed across his neck and chest. He was left with white splattered on his cheeks, nose, lips and chin. It dripped down slowly, mixing with tears, blood, snot and drool. 

    Ramsay felt his balls tighten up as his abs clenched. Fire coursed through his body, all rushing toward his cock. He shot his free hand out and took a fistful of Theon’s hair, wrenching his head back. Theon’s cum splattered face stared up at him. The look of broken dignity and terror he wore was enough.

    Ramsay came violently onto Theon’s upturned face. He closed his eyes just in time, feeling the warm liquid land across his eyelids and forehead. 

    Slowly cracking his eyes open he felt the spend slide down his face slowly. He was left with white dripping from his hairline to his chest. Ramsay and Jon watched with wrapped attention as all three boys tried to regain their breath.

    “There, now isn’t that nice. Covered in cum just like you wanted.” Ramsay smiled as he swiped up some of the white liquid that had run down his neck and popped it into Theon’s lax mouth, wiping it on his tongue. “Let’s just get your jaw set back and then we can get to the main event. Jon, you want to go first?”

    Jon swallowed as his blush deepened. He looked with apprehension at Theon’s teary face.

    “Sure.”

Chapter Text

   With a smirk, Ramsay scooped up the remaining spend with his fingers. He practically shoveled the warm, sticky liquid onto Theon’s tongue. Theon, choking and spluttering, had no choice but to swallow. 

    “There’s a good boy.” Ramsay said, caressing his cheek. Theon, shuddering, closed his eyes and slowly leaned into the touch, grateful for any kindness. 

    It was at that moment that Ramsay's grip changed. In one frighteningly fast motion, he grabbed Theon’s chin and shoved it up and back, resetting it with a sickening crunch. Theon’s scream was cut off as Ramsay slapped a hand over his mouth. 

    Ramsay shushed a quaking Theon as he looked at Jon, eyebrow raised.

    “Well? If you don’t want to take him first I will.” 

    Jon looked at him mildly horrified and disgusted at the sudden relocation of Theon’s bones. After another heartbeat Ramsay lost his patience. Sighing and rolling his eyes he began to shuffle away from Theon’s head and towards his ass. 

    Jon shot a hand up, stopping Ramsay in his tracks. They looked at each other, ice and storm meeting. Something unspoken passed between the two and Ramsay moved back to Theon’s head with a grin.

    Ramsay pushed an arm underneath Theon’s shoulders and lifted him up. With Theon’s upper body off the mattress, Ramsay slid himself underneath then settled him back down. Theon’s back now flush against his chest he wrapped his arms around the islander’s torso. This impromptu bear hug pinned his arms down at his sides, immobilizing him.

    Wrapped in this embrace Ramsay took his time and stared down the length of Theon’s body.

    He traced each still healing, pink-red mark on Theon’s torso with his eyes. Watched his half hard cock and saw the tremors of fear that racked through the little islander in beautiful detail. He watched Theon’s thigh muscles tense and try to draw his legs together, only to be stopped and pushed back apart by Jon’s hands. 

    Theon whimpered as he felt Ramsay’s cock begin to harden again.

    Jon’s fingers pressed into Theon’s thighs, sure to leave bruises. The pointer and middle finger of his right hand were proony and wrinkled having spent so much time inside Theon’s wet hole. The same lax hole that was now attempting to clench closed in anticipation of the pain to come.

    Theon’s muscles refused to work right, having been stretched out for so long. All he could do was scrunch his hole closed for a moment before it winked back open. Jon swallowed as he watched the opening and closing of the wet ring. Gripping his hard cock he shuffled forward, closing the distance between himself and Theon. 

    Glancing up one last time, he watched as Ramsay cradled Theon in his arms. Theon’s tearful eyes watched him. Jon quickly looked back down and swallowed once more.

    Slowly, he placed his cock head against Theon’s pucker. He sucked in a breath as he made contact, feeling the soft kiss of Theon’s rim against his slit. Jon looked up to ocean eyes. They stared back at him, part pleading and part resigned to his fate. 

    The storm clouds grew darker, colder, and the pleas for mercy left Theons eyes.

    Jon pushed his hips forward, penetrating Theon slowly. He gasped a breath, deep and quick, as he felt the heat wrap tightly around him. Theon cried out as Jon’s thick length burned through him.

    “Ahh, hhha… ah!” Theon moaned. The deep breaths he gasped did little to help him cope with the heat. 

    He was melting, boiling from the inside. Both him and Jon could feel it. The heat and the pressure inside him was unbearable. He was full of molten lava that worked deeper into him as Jon pushed his hips forward.

    It was hotter than the time Theon's brothers held his hand over the kitchen fire, trying to see if he would cook the same as the fish. Yara had been the one to stop her siblings and save Theon then. Yara was not coming to save him this time.

    All at once the fire stilled. Theon cracked open his eyes ( when did i close them?) and saw Jon, eyes closed with his head tipped back and mouth agape, fully seated inside him. Theon felt his own cock twitch. His hole clenched and unclenched lightly around Jon’s member, feeling its length and girth, adjusting to the intrusion.

    Jon basked in the sensations. Wet velvet insides, wrapped hot and tight around him. The soft flexing of his hole practically massaging his cock. He could understand now why this activity was the favorite pastime of most people.

    He took a deep breath, eyes still closed. He had to take a moment to recollect himself, if not he was sure he would cum in a heartbeat. After his breathing steadied and he was sure his orgasm was not around the corner, he looked back at Theon. 

    His thin arms were pressed against his side with Ramsay’s own wrapped around him. Flushed bright pink from his cheeks to his collarbones. Tears wet his face along with snot and drool. His eyes seemed to glow in the warm light from the lit fireplace. 

    He made a beautiful picture.

    Theon whined at the weight of Jon inside him. He wasn’t nearly as long as Ramsay, but just as thick, maybe even thicker. There was the slightest upward curve to his cock that Theon immediately hated. Not because it hurt, but because it caused the head of Jon’s cock to press directly against his sweet spot. 

    Ramsay unwrapped one of his arms from around Theon to sweep some of his hair off his face. The motion turned into a caress of his cheek as Ramsay's smirk grew.

    “There, is that better?” Ramsay cooed. “You just wanted a cock inside you, huh?” He stroked down Theon’s chest, circling a nipple with his fingertip. “You look so pretty like this. Absolutely gorgeous wrapped around Jon’s cock.” 

    Jon gulped and quickly looked back down to where his hips met Theon’s. Taking a deep breath he pulled back slowly. When he was about halfway out he pushed back in. He was steady in his movements, careful not to create too much stimulation and spend too soon. 

    Underneath him, Theon was biting his lip and closing his eyes. It was not an attempt to bear pain, but to stifle pleasured gasps. Of course there was the slight burning that came with the stretch, but he had been prepared for so long. Soft and open now as he was, the pain dissipated after the first few moments. He was left with a pleasant stretch and lighting crackling through his body from that little place inside him.

    Jon repeated his movements, careful and calculated. With each pull and push of his hips the head of his cock dragged against Theon’s sweet spot. Theon prayed to whatever gods that would listen that Jon would not last long.

    “F-fuck.” Jon said under his breath slowly finding his pace. His fingers dug into his thighs, keeping them in place as his hips began to meet Theon’s more forcefully. Gaining confidence Jon withdrew the furthest yet, only leaving the head inside. He pushed fully back inside with a single quick thrust, the sound of skin slapping together echoing in the room.

    Theon gasped as pleasure shot through him. The thrust had pushed him up the bed, further against Ramsay's broad chest. A whimper slipped past his lips; he was so hot. The whole room seemed to be burning around them. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes fire worked through his veins. The source of the heat was thick and heavy inside him. 

    Jon’s eyes glinted as they opened wide to take in the sight of Theon. He felt the heat too; but unlike Theon, he couldn’t get enough of it. Of the sweat, sounds, and sensations. 

    His pace picked up and Theon couldn’t hold back his moan. Behind him, Ramsay smiled broadly, hunger in his gaze. The continuous thrusts rocked Theon’s body back into him. Ramsay snaked his hands to Theon’s nipples, perky and tantalizing pink. He brushed his fingers over then, noticing how Theon flinched and gasped, and Jon paused for a moment. Theon had tightened up unconsciously at the sensation, causing Jon to nearly cum. Jon quickly recovered and began again, this time even more powerful in his thrusts.

    “St-stop, aah, Jon sto-p!” Theon said. It was not very convincing to anyone in the room punctuated with a moan, as it was. He couldn’t help himself; Ramsay twisted and tweaked at his nipples as Jon fucked into him. His rhythm was fevered now, the sound of skin slapping against wet skin filling the room. Each withdrawal a shmuck could be heard, the oil creating a seal that was broken and reformed as their bodies met. 

    Jon’s cock pounded against his sweet spot in harsh, rolling hits. Each time sending tingling pleasure through him. Theon panted with each thrust, trying with all his might not to let any moans escape him. Looking down at himself he realized with belated horror that he was fully hard.

    What… What's wrong with me? Why am I hard right now? By the Drowned God they’re, they’re doing… this to me! Why is my body… enjoying this? 

    As Theon’s thoughts swirled around him, Jon was closing in on his orgasm. The heady sensation of Theon wrapped around him driving him towards his completion, despite his best efforts to hold out.

    The rhythm in his thrusts stuttered once, then again, and again. Lurching to a halt, then continuing in fast, jerky motions Jon delivered a few more full thrusts before he came. Jamming his hips up against Theon’s he tossed his head back and let out a guttural moan. His body trembled, straining in a long quivering moment as his orgasm racked through him. A warmth bloomed in Theon’s guts.

    Jon stilled, all the tension leaving his body. His shoulders dropped and his chest heaved as he looked back at Theon and Ramsay. The little islander was panting, attempting to catch his breath through his tears. He was trying his best to ignore his cock, standing tall in front of all three.

    Ramsay gazed at it and smirked, likcking his lips. Pinching both Theon’s nipples, causing him to gasp, he began to roll them between his fingers as he breathed the scent of his skin.

    “What did I tell you, Jon?” Ramsay asked, looking to him from where his nose was buried in the juncture of Theon’s neck and shoulder. “He always wanted it.”

    Theon took a shuddering gasp then, trying to hold back yet another round of tears. Venomous thoughts swirled through his head, as hateful towards himself as they were towards his attackers. 

    Ramsay gave one last harsh tug of his nipples before sliding out from underneath him. Without the strong chest propping him up he flopped unceremoniously back onto the bed, limp. 

    Theon stared at the ceiling, not reacting to the world around him. Not to the sensation of Jon pulling his spent cock out of him. Not to the feeling of warm cum dribbling from his lax hole. Not to the sound of Ramsay quickly stripping himself of his clothes as he moved to where Jon was. Not to the changing of bodys at his legs, one leaving him to be replaced by another, slightly larger, body. Not to Ramsay’s grip where Jon’s just was, harsher and tighter. Not even to Ramsay rearranging him, flipping him onto his stomach and pulling his hips up. 

    Theon let it happen. What can I do? I’ve let not one, but two bastards defile me, have their way with me, treat me as their whore.

    As what little will to fight he had left seeped out of him Ramsay settled behind him. He had pulled the islanders' hips up and shoved Theon’s knees under himself. Ramsay kneeled behind him, his ass at the perfect height to take his cock. Theon took all the adjustments silently, not even a whimper slipping out of him. Ramsay grinned, showing all his teeth at the quietly trembling back.

    He slid his cock between Theon’s ass cheeks, over his hole, spreading the wet mess of oil and cum across even more of his skin. Once his cock was thoroughly coated he began to tease Theon’s rim with it. This causes him to stir, groaning quietly he pushes himself up. On all fours he looks behind himself over his shoulder, assessing the situation, looking for potential escape routes. All he could see was Ramsay smiling as he rolled his hips. He locks eyes with the bastard, Ramsay winked before he thrust in with one hard, fast jerk of his hips.

    It punched a yelp from his chest, and made him lose his balance, causing him to fall face first onto the bed. Ramsay gave a rumbling laugh as he grabbed a fistful of Theon’s hair and hauled him back up by it. 

    “Aah! Ram- let go!” Theon gasped as he placed one hand under himself and reached back with the other to try and free his locks. This made Ramsay laugh even harder and Theon cringed. He could feel the vibrations as he laughed, the reverberations rippling outward from where he was buried inside him.

    Dropping his hold on sandy blonde hair and grasping his hips instead Ramsay began to thrust savagely. Where Jon had been cautious with his inexperience, Ramsay did not have such issues. The pace he set was brutal and had Theon crying out immediately.

    “Ugh, haa! Too- ah- too fast!” Theon’s pleas fell on deaf ears, it did the opposite of its intended purpose, only spurring Ramsay on. Skin slapping against skin was all Theon could hear.

    Wet sounds filled the room, Theon’s hole dripping with oil and cum creating a seal against Ramsay each time their hips met. Theon cringed as he felt Ramsay's balls slapping against the back of his thighs with each movement.

    Ramsay basked in the feeling of Theon. Sinking into the heat again and again, he couldn’t help but think Theon was doing quite well now. All he needs is a little pain to show him his place. A firm hand to guide him. When he finally starts to listen it will be so much better for him. It’ll be so good he’ll wonder why he ever fought it. He smiled at the thought of Theon finally being obedient. It would be much nicer for him, he would realize that he was meant to be Ramsay's whore. And a whore always loves having a cock in her.

    Ramsay felt himself grow just a bit bigger inside of the islander at the thought. He shifted his knees and adjusted the angle of his hips. In this slightly altered position his cock dragged against Theon’s sweet spot with each harsh pump. It had him keening immediately.

    “Hhaa! Fu-fuck!” Theon bit his tongue, trying to keep from making any more noise. Each sound from him only spurred Ramsay on; he picked up his pace to the point that Theon’s ass bounced off his hips with each brutal thrust. Each punch had Theon gasping out, the sensations too much to bear in silence. The same rhythm was repeated; A snap of hips, the slap of skin, a wet moan dribbling from red lips.

    A well aimed thrust pushed a particularly debauched cry from Theon. He felt the sparks of pleasure catch, within a heartbeat it was a roaring blaze. From his hands and knees he dropped his head and looked down at the length of his own body. Ramsay's thick thighs in between his trembling ones were well illuminated in the fire light. His untouched hard cock and balls bouncing with each thrust.

    I look like a scrawny bar maid in comparison to him. A weak, disgusting, bitch. He was pulled from his self deprecating thoughts by a sharp slap to his right ass cheek. The sound of the blow rang out, quickly followed by Theon’s startled moan. Ramsay’s thrusting faltered for a moment; the slap having caused Theon to clench down involuntarily. After a heartbeat Ramsay smacked his open hand down onto Theon’s left cheek. 

    “Aah! Sh-it, haa,” Theon gasped out. Ramsay slapped him again, his calloused palm wide enough that it left half his ass cheek blazing.

    Ramsay let out a harsh breath, and dropped down so his back was flush with Theon’s. Taking one arm he wrapped it across Theon’s chest and hauled up. Theon gasped as the world jerked around him. 

    When everything settled they were both kneeling on the bed, pressed against each other. Ramsay’s hand quickly found Theon’s right nipple and began to play with it. Theon, who was already seeing stars, let out a wet moan at the feeling.

    This position was enough to make him cry out on its own without the added stimuli. Ramsay’s cock was deeper than it had ever been before. Theon felt it in places he never even knew it could go. 

    His wet moan turned into a keen when in the next moment Ramsay wrapped his hand around his hard cock. It had been so ignored thus far that the touch was as surprising as it was intense. 

    Ramsay continued with his deep, pounding thrusts, and began stroking Theon’s cock in time. He pinched and pulled at his nipple as he pumped Theon’s now dripping cock. Ramsay’s own cock, hard and hot, punched through him as he sucked and licked dark marks onto his neck. Theon’s head lulled and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. 

    He couldn’t think. All he could do was pant in time with Ramsay’s movements as pleasure coursed through his veins.

    He weakly grasped Ramsay’s wrists, one in each hand, and tried to pull them away. This only spurred Ramsay on. 

    He continued tugging at his cock and nipple as he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip of his cock in. Then in one deliciously slow, purposeful thrust he was fully seated again. With their hips flush and skin against skin, Ramsay began to grind.

    A high, airy moan slipped from his throat as Ramsay’s cock head crushed against that spot inside him. His cry turned into a debauched gasp when Ramsay repeated the motion.

    Pressed together, their hips rolled against each other. Every roll had Theon gasping out and Ramsay speeding up his movements. Within a few heartbeats Ramsay's hand was pumping furiously at Theon’s cock as his nipple was wrung even harder. 

    With one more vicious grind, pump, and tug, Theon came. 

    The islander’s body went stiff as a board, mouth open in a silent scream, as white cum spurted onto the bed. Each heartbeat spread the sensation further through his body. 

    Ramsay continued his movements, carrying Theon through his lengthy orgasm. Burning, tingling euphoria coursed through him in the most intense way he could ever recall. It left him drained, going limp in Ramsay’s iron grip.

    Theon’s near comatose state didn’t detour Ramsay. He didn’t stop his fucking for a moment, headless of Theon’s weak cry’s. He quickly readjusted his grip and carried on pistoning into him.

    His hips slammed into Theon’s, sending the sound of smacking skin throughout the room. He fucked like an animal, vicious and singularly focused on achieving his own finish. 

    Theon began to move again, desperate to get away from the overstimulation. He was too sensitive, too raw and tender, to handle Ramsay in this state. He wriggled and tried to pull himself out of his hold by the bedsheets. Ramsay, feeling his prize pull away, grabbed him tighter and buried his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. With the next thrust Theon was screaming as blood trickled from where Ramsay had sunk his teeth in. 

    The sharp, piercing pain was followed by a warmth blooming deep in his guts. Ramsay gave a few more shallow thrusts, staying as deep as he could, as his orgasm rocked through him. 

    Theon whimpered as the sticky, wet, heat filled him in pulses. Ramsay released his shoulder, licking the blood from the bite wound before placing a feather light kiss over it. 

    He was still buried deep but Theon could feel him softening as the last of his cum was spent. Pulling away from his shoulder, he gently turned Theon’s head towards him. His voice was soft and pleased when he spoke close to his ear.

    “Well done sweetling.” Ramsay cooed, stroking sweaty blonde locks from his face. “You were such a good boy.” At those words he felt a bubble of happiness. 

    As he recognized the joyful emotion, horror coursed through him. In the next heartbeat he was bent double and sobbing. Wrecked cries and wails ripped from his chest as his body shook with the force of them. Jon cringed and looked away as Ramsay simply held him closer.

Chapter Text

    Theon sniffled as he stared out the dark window from his place on the bed. His tears had slowed to a trickle and his breathing was finally even, if not a little hoarse. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the night's earlier events.

    He felt the bed shift as Ramsay rolled off it and stood. Giving a lazy stretch he made a satisfied sound before walking over to Theon’s desk,  pulling out the chair and sitting down heavily. Still naked as the day he was born, he began casually flipping through his sketchbook. Theon cursed himself when he heard the flipping of pages.

    Just another part of me for Ramsay to rip apart and show the world. He was pulled from the thought of his drawings when the bed dipped. 

    Jon reached out and softly, tentatively, began to rub up and down his back. It didn’t feel sexual, more… concerned? Like Theon was a lover who had a hard day and needed comfort. 

    Theon sighed and closed his eyes.

    It was not for long as his eyes snapped open at Ramsay’s voice ringing out.

    “You going to have him again? If not, give me a few minutes and I will.” He said nonchalantly, not looking up from the drawings. Theon’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Jon’s hand freeze.

    He couldn’t have Ramsay again, not so soon. His shoulder throbbed, insides clenched and toe burned. Slowly he shook his head. He found himself hoping that Jon would be taking him next. At least Jon wouldn’t dislocate his limbs.

    “Please, no.” He whispered under his breath, closing his eyes and squeezing out a few more tears.

    Jon glanced from Ramsay to Theon. At the mention of Ramsay fucking him again Jon had felt his body go rigid. He could feel the fear in him.

    Looking one more time between the two, he locked his jaw and nodded. 

    Theon saw him agree from the corner of his eye. He let out a shallow sigh and closed his eyes, sagging into the mattress. 

    He was safe for now. 

    Laying on his side, he felt Jon lay next to him so his chest was flush with his back. Theon cracked open his eyes to stare out the dark window as Jon’s hand began to wander further down his torso. 

    Outside the storm had just landed. Snow flying down, beginning to cover Winterfell in white. The world’s harsh lines began to fade as it snowed. With each moment everything became softer. 

    Jon’s touch was just as soft. His fingers ghosted over his side, gently working lower across his skin. 

    Theon gave a shuddering sigh, trying to compose himself. I’m fine. It’s not Ramsay, it’s not him. Jon is nice, he… he won’t hurt me. 

    Jon’s hand was just below his belly button, stroking softly across his navel, fingertips ghosting through the thin hair that ran down there. His hand disappeared from his stomach and returned at the back of his thigh.

    Jon gently grasped his leg and lifted it up. Theon tried and failed to stifle a wet gasp. Jon hesitated for a moment, before the sound of Ramsay shifting in his chair spurred him on.

    With his leg held in the air, he felt the coolness of the room against his entrance. His skin, still wet with oil and cum, tingled at the cold. 

    The cold was soon chased away by heat radiating from Jon. 

    Theon hissed when he felt the head of Jon’s cock touch against his hole. It made Jon pause for a moment. He gave a small squeeze to Theon’s thigh, still held in the air by him, and waited until he took a steady breath. It took him a few tries, but he came back to himself. 

    When Jon was sure Theon was as ready as he could be, he began to push. 

    It was slow and steady, helped along by the slide of the oil. Theon gasped, mouth dropping open and head tilting back. 

    Jon clenched his jaw as he bottomed out. 

    At the feel of Jon’s hips flush against his, Theon closed his eyes with a quiet whimper. He was full and raw and hot. At this angle the curve of Jon’s cock wasn’t directly hitting his sweet spot, but its girth and substantial length was more than enough to get him moaning. 

    Jon pulled his hips back slowly, then pushed in at an equally steady rate. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the back of Theon’s neck. He could feel how hot he was, burning from the inside out. 

    “Ugh, haa.” Theon gasped and let out a choked moan as Jon picked up his pace. He lets his head lull onto the pillow, forcing himself to relax. His gaze wandered, looking for a distraction. His tired eyes settle on the window overlooking the high walls of Winterfell. 

    On the other side of the glass snow begins to fall. It makes him wish he was out there, being buried by the snow, same as the old fortress.

    Theon closes his eyes, and imagines being covered in the white blanket. Bit by bit, hidden away. 

    He must have looked too peaceful,  or allowed his face to show he was somewhere else. Whatever it was Ramsay noticed, and he did not approve.

    With a storm in his eyes that rivaled the one outside, Ramsay lifted himself out of the chair and stalked over to them. 

    Theon’s eyes snapped open as something soft, damp and warm brushed against his lips. He looked up from Ramsay’s cock head, pressed against his mouth, and into his malevolent face.

    “You seem bored, Theon. I’ll give you something else to do.” Ramsay said, gripping a fistful of sandy hair. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you bite again, do I?” 

    “…no.” Theon responded in a strangled whisper. Ramsay grinned as Theon hesitantly parted his lips and allowed him to slide into his mouth. 

    “There’s a good boy.” Ramsay rumbled out.

    Theon tried his best to relax his throat. He felt tears gather at the corner of his eyes and spill over when Ramsay brushed against the back of his throat. He gagged violently and jerked backwards on instinct, but Ramsay’s fistful of hair stopped him. 

    “Ah-ah, all the way Theon.” Ramsay tutted. “You just have to relax.” 

    Easy for you to say, you ass. You're not the one trying to swallow a tree trunk. Theon thought, scrunching his eyes closed and exhaling through his nose. 

    Jon grimaced and tightened his grip on Theon’s hips, thrusting harder. The slap of skin hitting skin rang out. Theon choked on a moan as a well aimed thrust from Jon sent shock waves through him.

    Ramsay smiled as he looked down at Theon. The islander focused fully on not gagging. 

    He reached his free hand down Theon’s torso, stopping at his chest. He twisted one of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Theon jerked and snapped his eyes open. 

    He looked up, ocean meeting ice, and Ramsay grinned. He rolled the nub before pinching down on it harshly. Theon yelped and pushed his hand away halfheartedly, exhaustion catching up to him. Ramsay moved to his other nipple, making them match in color and irritation.

    Each twist of his chest had Theon clenching involuntarily. With a grunt Jon’s pace sped up as his grip became crushing. Theon felt the change in speed but his mind could not process it. Lack of air and exhaustion teaming up to make everything around him disappear.

     Suddenly, he could breathe again. He watched as Ramsay pulled out and took a step back. He pumped his hand up and down his member lazily as he watched. 

    Theon, too preoccupied with what Ramsay was doing, cried out as Jon began pulling his hips back to meet his thrust.

    “Aah, J-Jon!” He moaned, fingers digging into the sheets beneath him. 

    The breathy call of his name was all Jon needed to fall over the edge. Inhaling sharply and closing his eyes he came. 

    His bones seemed to vibrate with each weak pulse of cum that left him.

    Theon felt the gush of warmth inside him. It seemed to fill him up even more than he already was. 

    It was a strange kind of relief for Theon. Although he felt dirty, used, worthless and a disgrace to his family, at least now it was over. The tug of Jon pulling out of him and the trickle of spend that leaked out as well signaled the end of this ordeal.

    He let out a sigh, closing his eyes and allowing himself to collapse into the bed. He thought of nothing in particular, his mind wandering from place to place. Head full of fog, he was unable to form any concrete thoughts.

    The only thing that pierced through the clouds in his mind was the fact that they were finished. 

    I did it. We’re done. I… I can sleep now. No more of… it tonight. 

    Outside in the courtyard the snow continued to fall, blurring everything together into something different, something soft and cold.

     “…Good job, Theon.” Jon said quietly, resting his hand softly on Theon’s side. He slid back off the mattress, pulling the blanket up over Theon’s battered body. The islander cracked open his eyes, staring out the dark window blankly. Jon sat back, pulling away his hand. “Just… just get some sleep.”

    Theon nodded dully, continuing to look outside. 

    “Hahaha, not quite yet darling.” Ramsay said, ripping the blanket off him, gripping his shoulder in a crushing hand. He jerked Theon around onto his back.

    Theon gazed up at him, his eyes were blank, far away. Ramsay grinned wildly.

    “I’ve got a little more left for you.”

    Slick, smack.

    Ramsay slid through him easily.

    Squelch, smack.

    Lose and soft, flesh gave way for flesh.

    “Hha, uh… ah!” Theon garbled out. He had not spoken a coherent word in close to an hour. At least Jon thought it had been an hour or maybe more, he had already added more wood to the fire heating the room twice. If asked, Theon would say it had been a century.

    His tears had run dry some time ago, leaving in it’s place shuddering gasping and confused mumbles.

    All Theon could think of was how hot everything was. Outside this room was soft coolness, inside was fire. The fire was blurry, soupy, making it impossible to see the end or beginning of its burning trail.

    The fire scorched brighter as Ramsay reached down and pinched a nipple between his fingers.

    “Mmf! A-ah…” Theon moaned. Both his nipples were red and inflamed, swollen by all the abuse of the night. 

    Ramsay licked his lips and twisted the nub teasingly. As he did so he pulled almost all the way out and pumped his hips slowly in a circle. The motion making the head of his cock tug teasingly on Theon’s rim.

    The ring of muscle was puffy and sensitive, flushed a bright red from the night’s actions. Theon grit his teeth, tossing his head back.

    “Uuh, Ram-ram… ha!” Theon groaned, reaching his hands up to clutch at Ramsay’s shoulders. On his back under Ramsay, his legs hiked up around the bastard's pistoning hips, he was folded practically in half with nothing to look at other than cruel ice and burning desire.

    Ramsay thrusted in hard, reaching as deep as he could in that position. His hip flush with Theon’s ass, he tilted his pelvis up and ground into him.

    “Fu-fuuuck,” Theon gasped, eyes wide as he looked down at himself. Ramsay smirked, breathing heavily, the night’s activities finally catching up with him. He followed Theon’s gaze, eyes locking onto the islander’s cock. It was arched over his belly button, painfully hard and flushed an angry red, the head dripping pre cum onto his quivering stomach.

    “Are you enjoying yourself? It certainly seems like it.” Ramsay said, flicking the weeping head. Theon inhaled sharply and whimpered but did not move his hands from Ramsay’s shoulders. Ramsay licked his lips and moved his hand to press against Theon’s abdomen, under his leaking dick. “Can you feel me? I’m all the way up here.” As he did so, he pressed down and ground up with his hips. 

   Something seemed to snap in Theon then. Electricity and ecstasy scorched through his veins. Ocean eyes rolled back in their sockets as a scream died on the tongue. He sunk his nails into the muscle of Ramsay’s shoulder involuntarily as his orgasm finally snapped. White hot pleasure scorched through him as cum dribbled weakly from his cock.

    Ramsay’s eyes widened as he watched the islander, brows reaching up to his hairline. His hips began to fuck into him once again. His movements were frantic and quick, chasing after what Theon had brought on.

    Under him Theon had lost consciousness, his irises staying inside his skull and body going limp. Ramsay stared at his face, one hand in an iron grip on his hip and the other pressing against his abdomen. He could feel it, feel the push pull push pull of his cock inside Theon. 

    In the last few straining thrusts Ramsay finished. Tingling euphoria spread through him as all his muscles tightened then relaxed. Stilling, breathing heavily, he looked down at the ruined boy. 

    Jon, who had been growing more anxious with each thrust, left his seat by the fire and made his way to the bed.

    Ramsay, hearing the movement, pulled out slowly. He hissed at the sensation, oversensitive. He sat back on his heels and looked over at Jon raising an eyebrow.

    “Did you see that? The little whore came from that.” Ramsay said, gesturing forward.

    “Hmm.” Jon said, not taking his eyes from Theon’s unconscious form. “Don’t think it was a little much?” Ramsay looked back at the islander and smiled.

    “Hahah, fucked him so good he couldn’t function.” He laughs, reaching down to lightly slap Theon’s cheek. 

    He remains motionless.

    “Shit.” Jon says, eyes widening and hands half raising. 

    “Ooh, he’s fiiine. Those little iron born fuckers are tough.” This time Ramsay pulls his arm back as he slaps him, the sound echoing in the room crisply.

    Jon cringes and clenches his fists.

“Uugh… wh-wha?” Theon slurs as his eyelids flutter. 

    “There you go.” Ramsay says to Jon, pushing himself up and off the bed. “The princess is up from her nap.” He stretches his arms out behind himself and yawns. “Well then, I’m off.” 

    Theon stairs down at himself, brows drawn and blinking slowly. 

    “Where… what happened?” He looks up at Jon dully. “H-how…” he slurs, not finishing his question.

    “Wait,” Jon calls. “He’s not making any sense… maybe we should get him some help.” Jon cringes as Theon flinches and cowers at Ramsay’s bellowing laugh.

    “You go right ahead,” he sighs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Just make sure when you explain why he’s in the state that he is, you leave my name out of it.” Ramsay throws the last words over his shoulder as he walks out of the room, clothes in hand, slamming the door behind him.

     Jon glares at his back, jaw clenched and fists curled.

    He could feel the syrupy mix inside him. Sweet scented oil, and sticky cum. He wanted it out. Why does it feel like this? What did I do to make it this way? I was good, Ramsay said so, why do I still feel horrible?

    Theon’s mind swirled, confused and clouded like the blizzard outside. All he knew was the crippling pain had stopped- now a dull throbbing- and the monster who caused it was gone.

    …but, what if he comes back?

    The possibility sent a fresh wave of panic through his exhausted mind and ravaged body. He looked around his room, hoping to find something that could protect him from the monster. 

    Ocean eyes met gray storm clouds. 

    The two stared at each other.

    In that moment Jon was not the man who had just attacked and raped him, but the boy who Theon grew up with. They had known each other for years, seen one another grow into adults. Both unwanted sons, forced into places they did not belong.

    Jon was the closest thing to safety he could find.

    Reaching out his arm towards Jon, Theon’s face crumbled into tears.

    “J-Jon… pl-ease,” Theon gasped out between fresh tears.

    Jon’s eyes widened as his brows rose, mouth opening partially. He hesitated for a moment, but when Theon took a shuddering sob he went to him.

    Jon didn’t know what to do, reaching a hand out slowly and hesitating before placing it on Theon’s heaving back. The islander wrapped his hands around both Jon’s arms and weakly pulled himself towards him.

    “I-I, I can’t,” Theon choked. 

    “It’s-it’s ok.” Jon said, tentatively wrapping the other in a hug. Theon embraced him back and rested his head on Jon’s shoulder. Slowly, cautiously, Jon began to rub Theon’s back. Every few breaths Theon’s body would jump and heave as he sobbed quietly. The trembling however, was continuous. 

    “There’s too… too much i-inside.” Jon faltered in his motion. He took a hesitant glance down Theon’s back. With their current position he could only see the shape of his rear, but he could imagine the state he was in down there.

    “…ok, just lie down on your back for me.” Jon said with a quiet sigh. Theon sniffled as he began to shift, Jon took his shoulders to help ease him down. Theon flinched and whimpered at the touch to his shoulder. The X carved into the flesh, though scabbed over, was sensitive to any pressure. Jon cringed, muttered a quiet ‘sorry’ and moved his hand down.

    Once on his back Theon squeezed his eyes shut, one hand hovering over his stomach and the other clutching to Jon.

    “Wh- what do I…” Theon murmured, holding onto him tighter. 

    Jon knew the end of his question. What should I do? He didn’t have an answer.

    Theon looked down at himself and whimpered again. He shuffled his heels back, bending his knees. With a deep breath and squeezed shut eyes he pushed.

    The night had been long and both Ramsay and Jon had no qualms about spending inside Theon. As a result the cum mixed with the oil used to loosen his tight muscles left him feeling full and uncomfortable.

    He bared down on his intestines, clenching his abdominal muscles, sending a gush of cum and oil out onto the mattress.

    “U-ugh.” Theon whined, looking at the mess that had come out of him.

    Jon took a hard swallow before standing up and retrieving a rag. He cleaned the sheets off the best he could, but was sure they would have to be burned. 

    He hesitated for a moment, glancing from the bed to between Theon’s legs. Slowly he reached out and wiped what was left off of Theon’s tan skin. 

    Theon gasped and froze. Jon paused and glanced up at him before slowly continuing.

    The gentle touch and soft motions were enough for Theon to heave a sigh, letting his head fall to the pillow.

    Jon took his time clearing the mess. Theon let him. He felt safe, with Jon like this. This was the old Jon, the one he had grown up with. 

    Theon sniffled and found he had tears dripping from his eyes again. As Jon got up, finished with his job, Theon wiped the stray tears and struggled up so he was sitting against the headboard. 

    He watched as Jon set the rag down and gathered his clothes, stooping to pull on his breeches. A sudden rush of gratitude struck him at that moment. 

    Jon was reaching for the door when Theon’s shaky voice called out to him. 

    “Jon… th-thank you.” Jon stood for a moment, stunned and sure he had misheard. Looking back over his shoulder the earnestness in Theon’s eyes told him how grateful he truly was. He nodded his head, unsure what else to do. 

    Outside snow continued to fall, blurring the harsh lines of the world into something else. Fading everything into something new. 

Chapter Text

    The world was covered in white. A fluffy blanket thrown over everything. Winterfell was nearly unrecognizable to Jon as he glanced out passing windows heading toward the great hall.

    Outside was still and calm, a mockery to the swirling storm inside Jon’s head. 

    He had not slept at all last night (Ramsay did not have the same problem, his snoring loud enough to be heard through the door of his room).

    Rounding the last corner and entering the hall the quiet hum of conversation surrounded him. 

    He paused before crossing the threshold, wiping sweaty palms across his breeches. As he walked to an open seat he glanced from side to side; waiting for someone to accuse him of his crime and condemn him to punishment.

    As he sat he could already picture Ned’s ashamed expression as he passed judgment on him. 

    Will Ramsay have the same punishment as me? Casting his gaze around the hall, he looked for his accomplice. 

    He spotted him sitting with the two guards from the previous night, chatting casually with them. Jon watched on in confused amazement as Ramsay ate his breakfast seemingly without any care in the world.

    Continuing to scan the hall, he found Robb very obviously eavesdropping on his father’s conversation with Ser Rodrik. 

    Jon felt his heart jump into his throat at spotting the two. They are surely discussing a fitting punishment for me. For my crime- the crime of rape. Even in his own mind he shied away from the word. Ramsay had put it in much better- more justified- words than that blunt term last night.

    A few seats down however sat Luwin speaking with Bran. His brows knit together as a plate of food was set before him.

    Surely Lord Stark would have sent the Maester to treat Theon’s wounds. The islander had been in rough shape when he attempted to leave him last night. 

    Jon began picking at the food in front of him, stomach still too tangled to actually eat, as he thought of watery, ocean blue eyes.

    Jon turned back to the door and pulled it open, stepping out to leave. As he crossed the threshold he heard a frantic rustling of fabric and a sharp gasp. 

    Turning back, he saw Theon halfway off the bed. The islander made to stand up, but sucked in a short breath as he tried to stand, falling back down to the sheets. Jon rushed to him, letting the door fall closed behind him. 

    “What is it? You’re in no shape to do anything other than sleep right now.” Jon said, trying to make his voice soft yet non-negotiable. The irony of wanting Theon to not hurt himself, after everything he had just done to him, was not lost on him.

    Jon eased him further back onto the bed, a guiding hand on his shoulder. Theon glanced between him and the door, biting his lip and shaking his head slightly.

    He dropped his eyes to the floor and took a shuddering breath. When he looked up Jon could see fresh tears in his eyes. 

    “Wh…what if he co-comes back?” Theon whispered, hands fisting the sheets beneath him.

    Jon felt his heart stumble. Ramsay would come back? Certainly not impossible. Jon could see it in his mind now; Ramsay easing the door open and creeping back in to torture the already abused boy without an audience.

    He opened his mouth, but found he had no answer. 

    “I… don’t know.” He said quietly.

    Theon gave a small nod and looked back at his feet, though when he saw the toe Ramsay had skinned, he snapped his head up. 

    “Could-could you… stay with me?” He asked, so softly Jon almost did not hear him. “Just for a little while.” He added quickly.

    Jon paused for a long moment, silent. Theon seemed to curl in on himself as he waited for an answer, shrinking under the implications of his own question. As humiliating of a request as it was, he did not know what he would do if Jon refused. Being left alone- vulnerable and unguarded, crossing trembling fingers in hopes that Ramsay would leave him be for the night- was more than he could bear.

    Theon swallowed, heart beating getting faster with each moment. His chest was too small, constricting around his lungs and crushing them. He tried to take a deep breath, but it came fast and short, he tried to take another and another, all with the same result. 

    His heart fluttered faster and faster between his lungs. He could barely breathe. His ribs were squeezed too tight. A white heat growing along his spine, a panic that singed brighter with each strangled heartbeat. He brought a trembling hand to his chest, pushing at the seam of his ribs, trying to settle his racing heart. He pushed. He couldn’t breathe. He shook Harder.

    He couldn’t breathe.

    His spine was pure crackling energy, incinerating him from the inside out.

    He couldn’t breathe.

    He pushed harder.

    He couldn’t breathe.

    He couldn’t breathe.

    He couldn’t brea-

    Warm hands settled on his shoulders, rough and calloused. He looked up, blinking away tears, and stared into storm cloud eyes.  

    “It’s okay.” Jon said, voice calm but firm. “I’m here. Breath, Theon.” 

    He took a breath.

    “There you go.” 

    He took another.

    “That's it. One more.” 

    And another.

    Jon leaned back, releasing Theon’s trembling shoulders. Stepping back, he rounded the bed to the other side, quickening his pace when he heard Theon’s breathing speed up again, assuming he was leaving. He settled on the right side of the bed, leaning back against the headboard he opened his left arm and looked at Theon. The invitation was clear.

    Jon couldn’t explain his actions if he tried. He had just spent most of the night committing horrendous crimes against Theon, and now he was trying to comfort him? 

    Theon stared at him, breath still shaky and body still trembling. Jon lets his arm drop slowly. 

    What am I thinking? Just because he doesn’t want to be alone, he’ll let me hold him? Of course he doesn’t want me to touch him. I just- I just fucking raped him. Jon thought, having to stifle a self deprecating laugh. 

    He looked to his side, away from Theon, an embarrassed blush starting on his cheeks. He shifted his leg off the bed, eyeing the empty desk chair when he froze. 

    A tentative, shaking body was pressing gently against his. He snapped his eyes downward, careful not to move his body, and saw Theon, slow and just as unsure as him, settling alongside him. 

    Theon froze, seemingly realizing what he was doing. Jon felt him still, could feel the debate happening inside of his head; whether he should pull away or stay.

    Before Theon could rip himself from the comfort, Jon’s light touch rested across his shoulders. Side by side, Theon’s head resting against Jon’s strong chest and Jon’s arm around him, they settled. 

    Theon trembled against Jon, not out of fear of him, but of another. 

    Shocking to himself, Theon felt… safe. Huddled next to Jon, someone who had proven that he was stronger than himself, Theon was shielded. 

    The soft touch after such harsh treatment was intoxicating. The mix of warmth, safety, and exhaustion had him practically melting against Jon after a few moments. 

    Both having spent so many years alone in the stronghold, finally had someone to seek comfort from and give comfort to. 

    The warmth of Jon next to him, along with his steady breath and soft yet firm hands, had his eyes closing and breathing deepening. 

    By the time the last log in the fire was smoldering ash, Theon was asleep.

    Reluctantly and with as little movement as possible, Jon pulled himself from Theon’s side and off the bed. 

    He stood at its side, looking down at Theon wrapped in dirty bedding, taking feather light breaths. He looked small and fragile to Jon now. In the past he had only looked lithe and cruel. He wondered which was a more true version.

    Turning away, he grasped the fire poker and another log, adding it to the fire and waiting for it to catch. Once the fire was warming the room once more, Jon gathered his things and walked to the door. Pausing he looked back at Theon one last time. He felt a pull to go back to him, join him in those soiled sheets and warm each other till morning. Casting his gaze to the floor he turned and left the room, sure to close the door tightly behind himself.

    “Jon, do you know where Theon is?” Ned’s question rips him from his thoughts. The sound of his fork clattering to the table stands out against the hum of others eating.

    Choking down his mouthful of food, he glanced over to Ramsay before answering his father. Ramsay not even looking in his direction. 

    “…I-I don’t know.” Jon said, cursing himself for the stutter in his words.

    “Hmm,” Ned replied, scanning the room. “He’s been absent more often as of late.” His tone was not accusatory, but skeptical. Jon opened his mouth, searching for something- anything- to say, but no words would come out.

    He was saved by Ser Rodrik’s gruff words. 

    “I’m sure he had another long night at the brothel Lord Stark.” Rodrik replied with a snort.

    Ned sighed through his nose, then shook his head, mumbling under his breath as he walked away.

    Jon felt his body sag. They didn’t suspect him of anything, just Theon of his past activities. He was torn between giddy excitement at getting away with his crime and guilt at Theon’s reputation being further damaged. Louder than both, was the disgust he felt for himself. 

    A large calloused hand slapped down on the table in front of him, almost causing the fork to slip from his grasp again.  

    Looking up he saw Ramsay leaning over the table, his two companions standing behind him at either side. Ramsay’s eyes were sharp, calculating and reading his every move.

    “How was the rest of your night with my little pet?” Jon felt himself bristle at the word my. “I trust he was well behaved.” He paused for a moment, waiting. When he saw he would get no answer he shrugged, pushing off from the table and strolling away. “Not the type to kiss and tell, I see. Fine, keep the details, I’ll ask him myself. See you in study’s.” He said, waving over his shoulder as he exited the dining hall.

    Jon clenched his jaw and looked down at his food. With a growl he dropped his fork down and shoved the plate away, he had lost his appetite.

    Ramsay, Jon and Robb all sat apart in the study. Jon in the back, Robb in the front and Ramsay against the window. 

    Ramsay kept his ice gaze on the outside world through most of the maesters lecture. He paid the old man as little attention as needed, instead analyzing each moment of the previous night. The few times he did focus back in, it was to kill the hardness that was growing in his breeches. He always did have a high sex drive and when he thought back to those sweet little whimpers and terrified eyes he couldn’t help himself.

    He shifted in his seat, stealing a casual glance back at Jon. The other boy didn’t look at him- though Ramsay knew he was in his line of sight- glaring down at the wooden table.

    Oh, what? You don’t want to be friends with me now? It didn’t seem that way before you took my bitch for a ride.

    He shifts back, continuing to watch out the window. Down in the courtyard servants traipse through the snow, moving slowly from one end to another. He spots a guard up on the ramparts, watching past the walls into the distance. 

    Damon and Skinner are going to love the little squid. Ramsay moves his hand up to his face, covering the grin that splits across his features. It seems awfully quiet out there, I’m sure Ser Rodrik can spare a guard or two. It’s about time Theon meets the boys, they can have a little fun with him. He glanced at Jon quickly. He’s mine anyway, I’ll let whoever I want play with him. 

    He sat back in his chair, posture relaxed and a faint smile on his lips. 

    “You all are dismissed.” Maester Luwin said as he closed the book he was teaching from.

    The scrape of wood against stone fills the room as the three boys push their chairs back. Ramsay stretched his hands overhead, arching back and letting out a soft groan. He had slept like a rock after leaving Theon’s room, something about inflicting misery on others put him at ease.

    He watched the other two exit the room from the corner of his eye, following behind them a moment later. Robb tries to say something to Jon as he passes. Jon grunts in response, not looking up from the floor. He hadn’t said a word all class, quiet even for him.

    Ramsay drops his arms and saunters after them, taking long steps to get within ear shot. 

    “-just seems like something is troubling you.” Robb finishes softly, concern and brotherly love dripping from each word.

    Ramsay rolled his eyes.

    P“Nothing is troubling me, Robb. You can stop asking.” Jon replied curtly. 

    “Your demeanor these past days proves otherwise.” Robb said, following him a few steps down the hall. “If you wish to keep it to yourself, I’ll respect that. But know I’m always willing to listen.” 

    Jon stops and looks back at Robb, face unreadable. His eyes flick momentarily behind Robb to Ramsay. He opens his mouth, beginning to say something, when the patter of small footsteps, followed by a steadier pair, echo in the hall. A moment later Bran and Rickon are jumping at Robb, pulling him away by his arms, as Catelyn smiles lovingly at the three.

   “Robb! Come play with us!” Rickon shouts.

    “Uh, I would but I’m a little-“ Robb starts, looking from Rickon to his mother. 

    “Mom told us that you could play since there’s no more lessons today.” Bran says, getting behind him to shove him along.

    “Yes Robb, we are about to fetch your sisters from old Nan.” Catelyn states, not sparing Jon a glance. 

    Ramsay casts a look at the other bastard. Wasn’t invited to family play time, were you? He feels a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

    “Yeah! Now come on, we have to go fight Arya! Jon you have to be her banner man!” Rickon says, pausing a moment to grab Jon’s hand too. A soft smile grows on Jon’s face, melting the previous brooding frown.

    Ramsay feels the smirk twist into a barely concealed scowl. Catelyn is unable to school her expression as well as he.

    “Yes Jon! That way it will be even,” Bran says. “Jon and Sansa as Arya’s banner men, and Robb and Rickon as mine!”

    Rickon jumps up and down excitedly, using Jon and Robb’s arms as suspension. They both pull their arms up in tandem, swinging him high as he squeals with joy. 

    “No.” Catelyn’s voice is as cold as the snow outside. She seems to catch herself when her children’s excitement vanishes. 

    “But, but then we won’t be even.” Rickon says, eyes going wide and bottom lip trembling. 

    “I’m sure Jeyne would love to be a banner man for Arya. Jon is surely spending his afternoon with Ramsay.” She says, still without looking at him.

    Though she did not say, it’s clear from her expression that she thinks the bastards should stay to themselves.

    “But, mo-“ Bran starts.

    “I said no. Now come along.” Catelyn snaps, turning on her heels and striding away. Her children follow quickly behind her, each glancing back at Jon in succession as they disappear around the corner. 

    Jon stands there for a moment, fists curled and fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. The same way Theon’s teeth had last night.

    Ramsay watched his jaw clench, allowing a small smile to slide onto his face.

    He stepped closer to Jon, about to throw an arm around his shoulder when two guards rounded the corner. Ramsay didn’t try to conceal the grin that split across his face this time.

    “Damon! Skinner! Two faithful Stark banner men doing their patrols.” Ramsay calls out. Jon winces, tilting his ear away.

    Both men grin as they approach, Skinner rolling his eyes and scoffing. Damon clasps Ramsay on the back, Jon winces at the slap, Ramsay stays unflinching.

    “Just finishing actually, colder than a wildlings cunt out there.” Damon says, shaking some snow from his hair. 

    “Look at that, we just ended our lessons for the day.” Ramsay says, pointing a thumb to himself and Jon. 

    “Oh, the Stark bastard, right?” Skinner asks casually, nodding to Jon. “Didn't think you would have the balls to do what you did last night. The Starks are all so righteous, but I guess a bastard is still a bastard.” He grins cruelly, raising an eyebrow as he watches the other man.

    Jon says nothing, but his darkening expression tells everyone all they need to know.

    Stormy eyes meet the other man’s gaze. Jon looks at him, squares him up, seeing if the bravado will be backed up by more than words.

    He’s an average built man, with a clean shaved head and dark brown stubble on his chin. He doesn’t seem particularly strong, but possesses the strength all northern commoners have. An unremarkable face is turned ugly by with a cruel expression. Jon has a feeling that the man does not usually sport anything else nicer.

    “Shut up, Skinner.” Ramsay says. “His name is Jon and you’re going to use it.”

    Skinner’s smile drops, and he looks away. Jon raises his eyebrows and glances at Ramsay. 

    “You and Jon should come play knuckle bones with us. I want to hear more about the little lord.” Damon jumps in, calming Ramsay’s attention for himself.  

    “Why not?” Ramsay says, grinning as he nudges Jon’s side.

    Jon has to school the surprise out of his expression. They barely know me and are already asking me to spend time with them. My whole life I’ve known the Starks, yet they treat me as if I have the plague.

    It takes him only a moment to nod in agreement. 

Chapter Text

    The fire crackled, adding background noise to the roccus laughter and conversation. 

    “We got the beast down eventually, but half the pen was destroyed and we all needed new boots by the end of it,” Ramsay regaled as he leaned back in his chair, mug of ale in hand. “None of us were in the mood for pork after that, we just wanted to go to bed.” 

    “We just wanted to bathe, then go to bed,” Skinner corrected with a chuckle. The guard's previous hostility was gone, treating him as a long time companion. He was a funny man once one got over his harsh words and ugly scars.

    “Shit!” Damon cursed and he missed a bone. He groaned and flopped back in the chair. “That’s game.” 

    “You all need to get better at this, I have to say I’m getting tired of winning every time,” Skinner said, gathering up the knuckle bones with a grin. 

    “It’s because you’re used to moving your hand so much.” Ramsay says, jerking a fist up and down in his lap, grinning with raised eyebrows. Jon chuckles as Damon roars with laughter. 

    “It’s been lonely, what can I say,” Skinner shrugs. “Not everyone has a pet lordling to keep them warm.” He takes a swig from his mug. 

   Jon stiffens, faltering as he reached for his mug. He had not expected to drink, until the other three started downing their cups, that is. The pitcher growing lighter with each game. 

    Damon perks up immediately at the mention of Theon. 

    “That's right,” Damon chimes. “What’s he like? Seemed to be an ass when we first arrived. Much quieter now.”  He gestured with his mug to the bastard.

    Ramsay watches Jon from the corner of his eye as he leans back. 

    “He was a little shit. A bully with a too large ego that passed his days tormenting anyone who wasn’t the young lord Stark.” Jon clenches his jaw, memories flying through his mind of Theon‘s years of cruelty. Ramsay pauses, choosing his words carefully. “After getting some of his own treatment he settled down. Seems he finally learned his place,” Ramsay finished, watching Jon’s hand clench around the mug as he downed the contents.

    Jon’s eyes were dark as he reached for the pitcher set on the table. Picking it up, he tisked as he felt its empty weight. 

    “Empty?” Damon asks, draining his own mug. Jon nods curtly, dropping it back down and looking into the fireplace.

    “I’ll go-“ Skinner starts, his own cup empty as well. He’s stopped by Ramsay lifting his hand.

    “No, I’ll go. You were on patrol all morning,” Ramsay says, ignoring the confused looks from the two guards. “I’ll get more ale, and who knows, maybe I’ll pick up something sweeter too?” He flashes a shark tooth grin at his friends. In the next second both Damon and Skinner have grins of their own.

    Jon hears Ramsay but doesn’t register his words. His mind swirling with wicked memories. His eyes fixed on the fire in the hearth as emotions rage through him. He didn’t want to think about Theon. Didn’t want to think about everything he had done over the years. Didn’t want to think about everything he himself had done in just the last day.

    Ramsay grabs the pitcher, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look up.

    “Either of you have cards?” Ramsay asks. “Better to play with more people,” He throws over his shoulder, leaving the room. 

    Theon was drifting. Floating in the hazey existence between sleep and consciousness. His mind blissfully empty. 

    From the peaceful fog a warm, gentle hand brushed across his forehead, moving his bangs aside. He let a soft hum escape his throat as he turned into the touch.

    A voice began filling the previous silence. Deep and rumbling, reminiscent of the crackle of burning pine wood. Or maybe the crunch of snow stepped on for the first time. The words seemed kind, though his mind was too misty to understand them.

    The hand returned, this time at his neck. The fingers were callused yet light as they traced his jugular. They followed the pulse down into his chest and drifted over to his left nipple, circling around it. He let out a breathy groan and shifted, trying to dislodge the tickling sensation from the raw nub. 

    As the hand moved his mind slowly solidified itself. He fluttered his eyes, catching a glimpse of the sun streaming through his window. It was a blinding white light, reflecting off the ice and snow at his window sill. He stared at it with half lidded eyes, mesmerized. He had seen that color before, the harsh white-blue of northern winters. 

    Without warning the feather light fingers at his chest pinched, twisting the nub in a crushing grip. Sharp, electric pain shot up his spine to his head. His eyes snapped open fully and he let out a shout, sitting up and slapping at the hand on his chest to dislodge it. 

    The hand was pushed away for a moment before it returned, palm flat on his sternum, slamming him down into the bed. Theon blinked the remaining sleep from his eyes, looking at his chest and following up the arm to its owner. 

    “Ra…Rams-“ Theon starts with a gasp. He was cut off by Ramsay grasping and wrenching his right nipple, just as viciously as the first. Theon gasped and hunched his shoulders, trying to pull his chest away. 

    Both nipples were red and swollen, angry from what they had experienced the previous night. Dark purple bruises were beginning to form around their edges, matching the spots across the back of his neck. The gentle brush of his sheets had grated too harsh against them, now Ramsay’s cruel hands seemed to sear the skin away completely.

    He released the red bud and began petting through Theons sleep tousled hair, pushing it back from his blood shot, puffy eyes. 

    “Did you have a nice rest of your night with Jon?” Ramsay asked, saccharine sweet. Theon watched the clench of his jaw and razor sharp glint of his gaze.

    Theon looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth half opening to respond but drawing blank. Failing to come up with an answer that wouldn’t end in pain.

    “Too good to put into words, pet? Or did we fuck you stupid?” A cruel grin spread across his face.

    “I-i…” Theon tried to respond, but he couldn’t find the right words. He used to be so quick with what to say. Always a smart retort on his lips to silence any critiques. Just as his brothers had done. Now he could think of nothing. He was left scrambling for anything that would keep him from being hurt- whether by fist or words. He couldn’t handle anymore pain. Everything still felt so fresh and raw that anything more would rip right through him.

    His bottom lip, slightly swollen from last night, began to tremble. He swallowed, trying to get his throat to work around a quickly growing lump. Attempting to clear his eyes of the tears gathering there, he blinked rapidly.

    A thick finger wiped at a drop that had escaped. Ramsay cupped the side of his face, continuing to gently stroke his cheek. It was a marvel to Theon that hands capable of causing so much pain could also be so kind. 

    He had to fight the desire to lean into the touch. 

    “Oh, none of that now.” Ramsay said fondly, pulling his hand away and licking the tear from his thumb. “Up you get. You’re going to waste the whole day in bed.”

    Grabbing his wrist in one hand and whipping the covers back with the other, Ramsay hauled him out of bed. The gasp he let out the result of a bitten off scream. 

    Pain lit up his leg, spreading through his whole body. The skinned ring toe of his left foot had faded and mixed with his other aches. It sprang to the front of his mind the moment it touched the ground. 

    He stumbled forward- getting the weight off his foot as quickly as he could- and directly into Ramsay’s chest. 

    His free hand fisted into the front of Ramsay’s tunic as he took a shuddering breath. Squeezing his eyes closed, he bowed his head against his chest, forcing himself to breathe through the pain radiating from his foot.

    The section of flesh Ramsay had taken from his chest before was almost fully healed. The skin now a dark purple and shiny with forming scar tissue. The pain had faded as the days went on, more pressing matters distracting him. Now the relocated scorching, crippling agony was the only thing he could comprehend.

    “Oh? You must have missed me.” Ramsay said sweetly, wrapping his arms around Theon and rocking him slightly back and forth. 

    Theon swayed with Ramsay’s motions on his one functioning foot, taking shallow breaths through his nose.

    “Here, sit down.” Ramsay says, guiding him to sit on the bed. Theon hopped along on one foot, heart rate spiking at the thought of weighting his left again. 

    Ramsay smiles at him, pushing him down by the shoulders. His grin widens at the hiss of pain Theon lets out when his abused rear makes contact. 

    Theon presses his hands into the mattress, trying to lessen the pressure on his ass. He watches through squinted eyes as Ramsay drops into a crouch in front of him and pulls his left foot into his lap. 

    “Wait-!“ Theon gasps, starting to draw his foot away but stopping as Ramsay’s glare meets his and the grip on his ankle turns to iron. He takes a shuddering breath and swallows painfully. “Please don’t-“ 

    “Stop.” Theon’s mouth clicks shut. “I may have let you get away with using that fucking word nearly every second last night, but you know I hate to hear it.” Theon watches with wide eyes as Ramsay turns his attention back toward his now trembling limb. “I’m not going to do anything other than change your bandages.” Theon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “But that can change very quickly if you decide to act up, little Theon.”

    Theon, breathless with fear, gives a fast nod of approval; Bending to Ramsay’s will in a heartbeat.

    Picking apart the knot with deft fingers, Ramsay began unwrapping his foot. As layer after layer came away a growing spot of red stained the cotton. The bandage became stiff with the dried blood, sticking to itself. Ramsay had to tug at the fabric, slight crunching and cracking sound filling the room as the hardened fibers moved.

    At the final layers Theon began to squirm, feeling the pull of the unwinding fabric. The pain of his skinned flesh, having blended into the background of his other injuries overnight, now more acute than ever.

    Theon lets a hiss out through clenched teeth as the bandage is fully removed, fresh scabs ripped off with it. He shifts from side to side, trying to give himself some distraction. The movement causes a different ache to spark up his spine. 

    His entrance and insides seemed to grate against themselves, rubbed raw from the previous night’s activities. He tips his head back, fixing his gaze on the wood beams of the ceiling, and wills himself not to cry.

    How do I have any tears left? He thinks as a wave of self loathing washes over him. He thinks of his brothers, how he never saw them shed a tear, never lose a fight, never be treated as someone’s bitch. 

    He holds his breath, focusing on the burning in his lungs instead of the burning of where Ramsay has left his mark. 

    He is quick and efficient in rebandaging him. Some type of salve- Theon knows not which one as he refused to look- dabbed onto the wound, then quickly covered in fresh cotton gauze.

    The cinch of a knot being tied down and a firm pat on the leg tells him Ramsay is done. Theon sends a cursory glance at the fresh bandage: it seems well done.

    The one to cut me open and stitch me closed, ha. 

    His bitter thoughts are cut short by the sound of Ramsay opening his cupboard and rifling through his clothes. He swallows, dragging together any courage he can find. 

    “Wha-“ He interrupts himself with a cough. “What are you doing?” It comes off as a plea rather than a question.

    “Well, I figured that since you had so much fun with Jon after I was gone, that you must want to spend some time with me!”  Ramsay says merrily, throwing a pair of breeches and a tunic over his arm. 

    Theon fists his hands into the sheets. A blush spreads across his cheeks recalling the previous night. It was foggy and parts were missing, but he remembered enough. 

    “I didn’t-“ Theon starts.

    “No no! There is no need to lie to me!” Ramsay says, putting a hand out to stop him with mock sorrow. “You don’t need to spare my feelings.” He wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye.

    He throws the clothes at Theon, catching him in the face with a fwomp. 

    “But as you know I am quite popular.” He continues, giving a spluttering Theon a roguish grin. “Some of the guards invited me to play cards with them. So I’ll give you a choice: spend some time with just me, here, alone in your chamber. Or come and have a game with us,” He finishes and looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. Theon just stares back, mind processing. 

    Alone with Ramsay? No doubt he’ll try to… His toe throbs at the thought. He said guards, Stark guards. Surely they will keep him in line. Prevent him from… 

    “I-“ He clears his throat, again, forcing himself to look Ramsay in the eye. “I‘ll play cards with you and the guards.”

    “Wonderful.” There’s something in his expression that makes Theon pause. It's a cold type of excitement, the same look one of the dire wolves gives a rabbit just before they lunge. 

    But it’s too late now, and Ramsay is already helping him into his breeches, supporting his weight and hurrying him along. Ramsay’s hands linger on his bruises, ghosting across the old aches and pains. 

    Once he’s dressed Ramsay- supporting his left side- ushers him over to sit at his desk. He makes quick work stripping the bed of the soiled sheets. Crumpling the linens up, he shoves them into the back corner of Theon’s dresser, hidden by shadows. 

    Fully dressed, Theon breathes in deeply and pushes himself upright. The pain is not as bad as he had expected, the bandage and shoe spreading his weight and shielding his toe. Still his limp, stemming from his arse and foot, is obvious.

    Ramsay meets him at the door, holding it open and ushering him through. He bows at the waist as he passes.

    In the hall Ramsay steps in front of him, holding out his arm for Theon to take.

    “M’lady,” He says, inclining his head. 

    Putting all his hatred into his gaze, Theon glares at Ramsay. Turning on his heel, he stalks awkwardly away. Ramsay grins, jogging a few steps to catch up, and leads him into the bowls of Winterfell.

Chapter Text

    The room he was led to was secluded, the farthest down its corridor. The torches lining the hall were old, burned down nearly to the base. This part of the stronghold was not often used unless no other rooms were available.

    As Ramsay opened the door- not bothering to knock- his large frame blocked the interior of the room from Theon. He could hear the crackling of a fire and rowdy conversation from within. When Ramsay stepped aside and urged him inside, firmly closing the door behind them, Theon’s already hesitant steps faltered.

    The room was cast in the orange-gold light of the fire in the harth. His heart seized at that moment. It was the same glow of his own chamber last night. The same colors that lit the brutality wrought onto him. 

    He cast a frantic glance to the men at the table. Two guards were seated, still in their breastplates, watching him with an animalistic gleam.

    Then he sees Jon, and the surprise is enough to shock him out of his increasingly distressed state. I shouldn’t be surprised. The two bastards love each other. Of course they would share their afternoons together, they share their bitchs after all. He shakes his head slightly, trying to clear traitorous thoughts from his mind.

    Jon looks up from the heart and lockes gazes with Theon. He feels the heat of embarrassment flame across his face, recalling Jon at the end of his torture. He finds the soft comfort more shameful than the actual fucking.

    Theon pulls his eyes away, humiliated at himself. The other two are openly staring at him, had been the moment he walked in. They seem vaguely familiar, though all low borns look the same to him. 

    One a frightening looking bald man and the other a blond behemoth. Theon finds himself thinking that the blond is much more attractive than the other and berates himself immediately. Maybe I am a cock hungry whore, just like Ramsay claims. I certainly look at men like one. He scowls at himself, turning his attention to the table top.

    Ramsay saunters past him as he examines the cards laid out. Ramsay’s grin is victorious as he places a full pitcher of beer down. 

    Before Theon would have laughed at the spluttering servant whom Ramsay had snatched the pitcher from as they passed each other in the hall; now he feels bad for them. 

    As soon as the pitcher touches the table Jon fills his cup to the brim, taking a long swig from it. Ramsay sits, hooking an arm over the back of the chair, and looks over at Theon, still frozen in the center of the room.

    “Well? Pull up a chair,” he says, gesturing to the back corner of the room with a raised eyebrow and a smile. 

    Theon’s face heats with indignation as he spots the stool Ramsay has assigned. It was a rough and worn thing, more suited for a poor dairy maid than a resident of Winterfell.

    Gritting his teeth he retrieves the offending item, trying to conceal his limp, and sits between Ramsay and the blond guard. 

    He places the stool closer to the blond and laments the fact there is no other spot. With two Stark guards right here Ramsay won't try anything, surely.

    “Theon,” he snaps his head up at Ramsay’s voice. “This is Skinner and Damon.” Theon nods a greeting at each in turn, fighting down his instinctual sneer at the names. Skinner? Small folk never did know how to name their whelps. 

    They both stare at him, their gaze appraising and calculating. Theon begins to let his sneer show the longer they eye him. In the end he averts his gaze first, otherwise the shiver trying to run down his spine would  become too much to hide. 

    “Skinner?” Ramsay prompts, a knowing smirk on his lips. The bald man grunts, fetching a deck from one of the battered chests of drawers in the room. 

    The cards that are tossed onto the table almost make Theon laugh. He has to bite his tongue to prevent a scathing comment about the deck being more fit for firewood than playing games from slipping out. Thin, wrinkled and dirty, the deck was old and worn, but still would have been cheap even when new. After years of use the pasteboard was splitting apart and peeling at the edges. The images faded and stained with speckles of dark brown across them. 

    “Karnoffel?” Ramsay asks, shuffling the stack deftly. He begins dealing out to the table without wanting for an answer. 

    Theon watches his large hands flick out cards with delicate precision. Picking up his delt hand, the feel of the cards is as cheap as he expected. He rubs the tips of his fingers together, expecting them to come away from the pasteboard dirtied. He feels a puff of upper class pride as they begin to play, thinking of his own deck of cards back in his room. Gilded, with vibrant colors and fine pasteboard, his set was fit for a game with the king. Bought on an impulse with Stark gold, it was a finer deck than anything Balon Greyjoy ever owned. His father would rather have a card game than spend any time with his youngest son. Theon never truly understood the appeal, his deck barely saw the light of day.

    The first game begins and ends in silence. The large guard- Damon- muttering a quiet victory. it seemed a hollow success as the man spent more time with his eyes on Theon rather than the cards. The islander feels his discomfort growing with each moment they continue to watch him. 

    He has the acute desire to tell both of the men off. 

    A few months ago he would’ve sneered and made a comment about them living in such a backwater hovel prior to Winterfell, they didn’t know how to act around a Lord. He would’ve told them to keep their eyes on the dirt below their feet as that was where they belonged.

    His reproach is on the tip of his tongue before he bites it down. A sharp stab of pain coming up from his foot a reminder as to why he should stay quiet. Ducking his head, he watches Ramsay‘s hands as he shuffles the deck again and deals out once more. The blue eyed bastard is the only one who seems to be enjoying himself at this so-called fun gathering. Jon doesn’t look up from his hand, hiding smoldering eyes behind a curtain of black hair. Though Theon can see his clenching and unclenching his jaw whenever he casts a furtive glance over to him.

    The other two guards seem so wrapped up in staring at him that Theon is impressed they have enough attention to still be playing the game in front of them correctly. Unease bubbles up as both the guards persist to stare at him. 

    Buy some fluke of good luck (he’s had such bad luck as of late it was bound to change at some point) he wins the next game. 

    “About time the little lordling shows us bastards how to play properly.” Ramsay says, a conniving smirk on his face as he nudges Jon with an elbow. 

    Theon’s breath catches in his throat. The pain he had suffered from using such a name, a testament to how Ramsay despised it. He can’t fathom why he himself would use the word; other than to stoke Jon’s simmering anger.

    As if on cue Jon’s eyes flash as he looks up, the storm cloud in them now seemingly made of stone, cold and hard. A mocking smile spread across his face. It’s the cruelest expression Theon has seen him wear; it makes his heart clench. 

    “Oh, yes! The young Lord does enjoy collecting victories, almost as much as he does bedmates.”  Jon’s eyes stay fixed on Theon’s. Next to him, Ramsey’s surprise expression morphs into one of sadistic glee.

    “Ha! Well said!” Ramsey replies with booming laughter, quickly joined in by the others. Theon feels the heat rising in his cheeks, surely flushed down to his chest. 

    His sexual partners had never been a source of embarrassment before. If anything he was proud, it was something to brag about. But his physical relations had been soured by these two, tainting all his experiences.

    “Let’s see if he can add another to his roster.” Ramsay says, winking at Theon as he deals out once more.

    Curling his hand into fists, he bows his head, keeping his gaze locked on the cards in front of him. His face is so hot he feels it spread to his eyes, burning until tears gather to douse the flame. He is able to hold them back- barely. Just like his tears, anger builds up in him. Though the anger is less at his bullies and more so at himself. For being weak. Too weak to stop cruel words from hurting him and a crueler touche from doing the same.

    He’s too busy with his self loathing to pay attention to the game; until Skinner slaps his palm down onto the table in victory.

    “That wasn’t very polite, Skinner,” Ramsay admonishes. Tilting his head towards Theon, he says with a grin. “You should’ve allowed the lady at least one more success.” In the blink of an eye, Skinner and Damon have the same smile as the leader of their pack.

    “Ah, my apologies, m’lady,” The bald man offers a half bow while seated. “You must forgive a poor commoner for his mistake.”

    Theon doesn’t bother keeping his gaze raised, the chuckles from around the table tell him everything he needs to know of the others' reactions. He bites his tongue and curls his hands into fists yet again, the pain from both distracting him from the scorch of humiliation. 

    Clearer than the other three he hears Jon. Laughter not the soft chuckle he had grown up with, but a sharp loud thing that hurts more than just his ears. 

    Tossing back the rest of his cup, Jon reaches across the table for the pitcher. His movements are wobbly and meandering, the drink he had barely set down since Theon’s arrival having its effect on him. 

    Theon can't recall the last time he saw Jon intoxicated; he has a sneaking suspicion he never has been before. There was hardly ever an ale cup set before him. Only a single cup fouised upon him that he would slowly nurse throughout whichever feast called for it. 

    If anyone should have a cup, it is Theon. What they were drinking was surely the cheap malt of farmers, not the Dornish red he preferred. Still, a bubble of jealousy rose up within him. A sense of isolation being the only one left out; it’s as if he's watching the older children play while he is left cowering behind his mother’s skirt all over again.

    He feels a petty sense of glee as Jon curses at finding the pitcher empty. He stands, swaying the slightest bit. “I’m going t’find more drinks.” He states, tromping out of the room, allowing the door to slam closed behind him.

    Theon feels his chest tighten more with yet another wave of anxiety. Though Jon had been just as cruel as the other men at the table, Theon at least knew him. This was now uncharted territory. He was left stranded, not knowing what would spark more torment.  

    Find your bloody drink fast. 

    The thought- much like many other things he thinks and feels- startles and confuses him. Perhaps with Jon there he wouldn’t feel so damn alone. Even if he had to face more of his japes and taunts, at least he would know there was a speck of kindness in the man they came from.

    The stones of the old fortress seem softer to Jon. As he walks slowly down the halls he runs his fingers along them.

    Maybe I’m the one who has gotten harder, not the stone softer.

    The thought was fleeting but rung true, though the significance was lost on him with the drink in his stomach.

    He meandered his way to the kitchen, stumbling on uneven stones that he would normally sidestep. He felt no rush to return, more inclined to take in his surroundings in this new light.

    He finds the kitchens empty, cooking fires down to cinders. He takes a slow lap, scanning the counter tops for a familiar pitcher. It takes a second walk through before he spots one. Picking it up with too much force, he finds it full, some of the liquid inside sloshing over the rim. He takes a deep pull from the jug as he turns around to leave. 

    “Oh, Jon! What are you doing down here?” A female voice with a thick country brogue asks him. 

    He pauses, stopping himself from stepping forward at the last moment, and stares blankly at the woman before him. She is middle aged, dressed in servant's garb with a bundle of firewood in her arms and her nose red from the cold outside. She looks at him, her face surprised and stands between him and the door. 

    Through the light haze in his mind a spark of panic catches. I should not be here. This ale is not mine. Once this crime is found out it’s only a matter of time before the rest come to light. 

    He is thinking of a fire lit room. Of wet ocean eyes. Of pain and velvet heat.

    Before he could think better his feet were already moving. He practically tosses the pitcher back onto the counter and goes to rush past her out the door.

    The next moment happens so quickly that he could only parse out the events in the aftermath. The pitcher had missed its mark, tipping over and breaking apart, leaving a puddle of ale and shards of pottery across the counter. In his haste to leave he had knocked the servant over by catching her with his shoulder. She fell with a small shout which was covered by the loud clatter of the firewood tumbling to the floor. 

    As he looked back at her the best course of action his foggy mind could come up with was to flee. He dashes out the door, unsteady but quick, but stops at the last moment before he runs into a hunched mass of gray robes. 

    Old hands, surprisingly strong, grasp his shoulders and hold him still, stopping him in place.

    “Whoa there, Jon! What has you in such a hurry?” He asks with a chuckle.

    “Maester Luwin,” Jon says breathlessly. “I-“ He casts a glance behind himself into the mess of a kitchen. Luwin follows his gaze, his expression dropping when he sees the aftermath of what had happened.

    “Stay here.” Luwin says, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jon watches him help the women to her feet and clean up the mess. He stands there watching, the stone walls fuzzy around him.

    When all is fixed and the woman confirms her lack of injury, Luwin returns to Jon. Clasping a hand on Jons shoulder, he pulls him along. 

    “What- where are we going?” Jon asks, stumbling as he follows. 

    “I feel we are in need of a discussion, you and I,” Is Luwins stony reply. 

    Jon swallows and drags his feet forward, clenching his fists and looking down.

    Ramsay watches Theon as he looks after Jon. The way his shoulders draw up a touch more and his card hand trembles. It makes something inside him writhe. Like a beast being poked awake. 

    You would rather have Jon here instead? The one who lets you get away with anything? Let’s you walk all over him? Well, too bad.

    Theon jolts when the door slams behind Jon. He seems to fight himself, forcing his gaze away from the exit and back to his cards. The room is silent except for the pop and crackle of the fire. Theon, quiet and worried, and the fire light warming the room harkens back to previous nights. 

    You were so cute. All scared and sniveling. Awfully misbehaved, but pets are often naughty when a more lenient master is around.

    Ramsay makes the next move, setting his piece of pasteboard down. He finds he is suddenly very bored with the game. The way Damon and Skinner are eyeing Theon it seems they are as well. Both men have watched the little squid since he arrived, sitting down on his tender bottom. 

    They wait for Ramsay’s cue. Like well trained hounds, at his go ahead they will leap and tear their prey apart.

    Theon has ignored the leers with commitment, as if his lack of acknowledgment will change anything. It will all stay the same, it will all bend to Ramsays desire, taking the shape he chooses. Theon will learn that nothing will change unless Ramsay desires it; He will learn to not fight it.

    Skinner shifts in his seat, moving his legs apart, making room in his breeches. Ramsay knows both men are eager to stick their cocks into his new pet. That’s how it usually went when one of them found a new chew toy. But not this time. A good owner must be able to read when a bitch is at her limit; and after last night, Theon was there. If he let the boys fuck Theon now it would certainly result in an injury. Although he adored the flinching and cringing those old aches and pains caused, cleaning blood off his cock was a hassle. 

    “Ramsay,” Damon’s voice cuts into his thoughts. “Your turn.” Ramsay looks down at his cards, then over to Theon. With a flourish of his hand and a sideways smirk, he puts his hand of cards face down and bows turned towards the islander. 

    “M’lady,” he addresses with reverence. “I cede this game to you, as I cede to your better, pure, royal blood.” 

    Theon does a remarkably good job at schooling his expression; only a twitch of an eyebrow to show the emotions roiling underneath. Damon and Skinner are quick to catch on, following his lead from experience. Both set their hands down with poorly restrained enthusiasm. 

    “Yes, yes, as do I,” Damon chimes. 

    “As you are my better society, you are my better in games,” Skinner says, sounding as if he just stepped out of the court at King's Landing. “Congratulations on your victory, my lady.”

    These last insults seem to have finally spurred him awake. Theon’s sneer could curdle milk. He glares daggers at each man, finally settling his fuming gaze onto Ramsay. 

    “I. Am. Not. A woman,” Theon spits through grit teeth.

    “Are you sure?” Ramsay asks. He all but breathes the next question: “why don’t we check?”