1. You’ve forgotten how to smile for real cw for: murder, child abuse, gore…it’s…it’s a lot. The links will lead to slightly shortened bits from the actual ASOIAF books because I’ll just end up taking that dialogue anyway.
[ Memories are a difficult thing for Theon. He’s been struggling with them since he arrived, so much that he’s begun to repress what he knows, to doubt certain memories and accuse his fellow countrymen of lying to him when their memories don’t align with his own.
When it all floods back, it’s a nightmare.]
A. Pyke
[ This memory can only be described as cold. Everything about the room you find yourself in is cold, from the stone walls and stone floor, to the sea roaring outside, to the bone thin man seated beside a brazier that gives off a pitiful amount of heat. Even the man’s eyes are flinty and sharp as he lifts them to the second, younger figure in the room.
“Nine years, is it?,” he asks, his voice reedy and harsh.
[ It’s a wood you find yourself in, just near an old mill. The air is chilled, but it’s not uncommon for the North. It’s still in Autumn, and it has been for some time.
Theon Greyjoy, despite being dressed in fine clothing, is on his knees in the dirt. He’s fumbling to dress the dead bodies of two dead children, his frozen fingers struggling with the direwolf-shaped clasp of a cloak. Another figure stands idle nearby, unresponsive to Theon’s plight.
When his gruesome task is through, Theon scrambles backwards, quick to get away from the cold bodies. He can’t hide his anxiety or his guilt and disgust with the entire situation.
“You did well, m’lord prince,” the second man calls to him, unperturbed.
Theon clenches his teeth, glancing at the body. “A lordling’s clothing isn’t enough,” he manages, halfway stumbling over his tongue. “People are fools, but—“
“If m’lord would allow me to strip the skin from their faces,” the man urges. “It’s like I told you before. A naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man’s got none. They’ll never recognize them without their skins.”
A long pause follows, and Theon goes a ghostly white. Whatever he was thinking in this moment, it was clearly gut-churning.
“Do what you will. Just make quick work of it,” he snaps. His hands are shaking as he turns away. ]
C. Winterfell
[ It’s chaos, and you’ve been planted right in the middle of it all.
There’s a young man struggling to pick himself off the ground, his mouth full of blood. If he’s trying to make a command, it’s no use. Men on horseback are pouring through the gates of a castle, their armor bearing a sigil of a flayed man. They cut down men and horses as they go, a river of blood and bodies forming more quickly than should be possible. At some point, a man throws a torch onto the thatched roof of the stable, starting a roaring fire that engulfs everything.
“Save me the Freys,” a laughing voice shouts above the flames. “And burn the rest. Burn it, burn it all.” ]
D. Crofters’ Village Spoilers for The Winds of Winter if you’re keeping from those. This is from a sample chapter.
[ This memory is unknown to even Theon himself, and it’s strange.
The room is poorly furnished, windowless, and lit only by the candles on a table at which a man sits. There’s another man chained to the wall, as thin as a skeleton and white-haired. Several of his fingers have been carved away, and his teeth have been smashed to splinters.
But he smiles. He smiles, and he laughs.
The man at the table looks up, none other than Stannis Baratheon.
[ The memories all startle and confuse Theon. Some are pieces of his history that he hadn’t wanted anyone to see, while some are things that he’s stowed away from even himself. The final memory is something that he’s yet to see come to pass. His eyes are wide with fear each time he breaks away from it, and he glances at whoever may have been drawn into the nightmare along with him. ]
That’s—
[ He clenches his teeth, unsure of what to say. ]
It’s nothing worth speaking of.
2. Wildcard
[ I mostly just...went full memory swap for this but if you want to do something else, please feel free to hit me up! Just grab me here or at muttonchops ]
Theon Greyjoy | A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones
cw for: murder, child abuse, gore…it’s…it’s a lot. The links will lead to slightly shortened bits from the actual ASOIAF books because I’ll just end up taking that dialogue anyway.
[ Memories are a difficult thing for Theon. He’s been struggling with them since he arrived, so much that he’s begun to repress what he knows, to doubt certain memories and accuse his fellow countrymen of lying to him when their memories don’t align with his own.
When it all floods back, it’s a nightmare.]
A. Pyke
[ This memory can only be described as cold. Everything about the room you find yourself in is cold, from the stone walls and stone floor, to the sea roaring outside, to the bone thin man seated beside a brazier that gives off a pitiful amount of heat. Even the man’s eyes are flinty and sharp as he lifts them to the second, younger figure in the room.
“Nine years, is it?,” he asks, his voice reedy and harsh.
“Ten,” responds a young man that can only be Theon Greyjoy. ]
B. Acorn Water Mill
[ It’s a wood you find yourself in, just near an old mill. The air is chilled, but it’s not uncommon for the North. It’s still in Autumn, and it has been for some time.
Theon Greyjoy, despite being dressed in fine clothing, is on his knees in the dirt. He’s fumbling to dress the dead bodies of two dead children, his frozen fingers struggling with the direwolf-shaped clasp of a cloak. Another figure stands idle nearby, unresponsive to Theon’s plight.
When his gruesome task is through, Theon scrambles backwards, quick to get away from the cold bodies. He can’t hide his anxiety or his guilt and disgust with the entire situation.
“You did well, m’lord prince,” the second man calls to him, unperturbed.
Theon clenches his teeth, glancing at the body. “A lordling’s clothing isn’t enough,” he manages, halfway stumbling over his tongue. “People are fools, but—“
“If m’lord would allow me to strip the skin from their faces,” the man urges. “It’s like I told you before. A naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man’s got none. They’ll never recognize them without their skins.”
A long pause follows, and Theon goes a ghostly white. Whatever he was thinking in this moment, it was clearly gut-churning.
“Do what you will. Just make quick work of it,” he snaps. His hands are shaking as he turns away. ]
C. Winterfell
[ It’s chaos, and you’ve been planted right in the middle of it all.
There’s a young man struggling to pick himself off the ground, his mouth full of blood. If he’s trying to make a command, it’s no use. Men on horseback are pouring through the gates of a castle, their armor bearing a sigil of a flayed man. They cut down men and horses as they go, a river of blood and bodies forming more quickly than should be possible. At some point, a man throws a torch onto the thatched roof of the stable, starting a roaring fire that engulfs everything.
“Save me the Freys,” a laughing voice shouts above the flames. “And burn the rest. Burn it, burn it all.” ]
D. Crofters’ Village
Spoilers for The Winds of Winter if you’re keeping from those. This is from a sample chapter.
[ This memory is unknown to even Theon himself, and it’s strange.
The room is poorly furnished, windowless, and lit only by the candles on a table at which a man sits. There’s another man chained to the wall, as thin as a skeleton and white-haired. Several of his fingers have been carved away, and his teeth have been smashed to splinters.
But he smiles. He smiles, and he laughs.
The man at the table looks up, none other than Stannis Baratheon.
“The Turncloak stirs.”
“Theon. My name is Theon.” ]
E. Aftermath
[ The memories all startle and confuse Theon. Some are pieces of his history that he hadn’t wanted anyone to see, while some are things that he’s stowed away from even himself. The final memory is something that he’s yet to see come to pass. His eyes are wide with fear each time he breaks away from it, and he glances at whoever may have been drawn into the nightmare along with him. ]
That’s—
[ He clenches his teeth, unsure of what to say. ]
It’s nothing worth speaking of.
2. Wildcard
[ I mostly just...went full memory swap for this but if you want to do something else, please feel free to hit me up! Just grab me here or at