[ He glances through the window with furrowed eyebrows. Time was impossible to tell in the dark. Years and years could have passed and he never would have known, but he has that luxury now. He can see the light over the trees and judge the sun’s place in the sky. In truth, it gives him a certain sort of satisfaction to be able to say what time of day it is.
He gently pushes Nagga off of his chest, pulling himself up to better observe what Claire has brought him. He had one set of clothing in Ramsay’s keeping, rags that were never to be taken off except at his command. It was only when the Boltons relocated to Winterfell that he received anything warmer. And now—
There’s a tug at his heart. A sharp ache. He recognizes the gloves she’s holding out to him. Too small to be Ned’s, not quite Jon’s style, and Theon himself always wore gloves made of silk rather than leather.
They’re just gloves, he tells himself. They’re the same as any Northman wore. It’s stupid to be so sentimental.
But he takes them into his hands anyway, and he can’t help the teary laugh that bubbles up from his throat.
Stupid, he continues to chide himself, but he shakes his head, trying to work up the words to respond. ]
I had so much time to think. To think about what I’d done. Maximus says it was only three days, but it wasn’t. It could have been a hundred years. A hundred years since I betrayed him.
[ His best friend, his only friend. ]
I should have gone back. I should have been there. I should have died too. Alongside him.
no subject
[ He glances through the window with furrowed eyebrows. Time was impossible to tell in the dark. Years and years could have passed and he never would have known, but he has that luxury now. He can see the light over the trees and judge the sun’s place in the sky. In truth, it gives him a certain sort of satisfaction to be able to say what time of day it is.
He gently pushes Nagga off of his chest, pulling himself up to better observe what Claire has brought him. He had one set of clothing in Ramsay’s keeping, rags that were never to be taken off except at his command. It was only when the Boltons relocated to Winterfell that he received anything warmer. And now—
There’s a tug at his heart. A sharp ache. He recognizes the gloves she’s holding out to him. Too small to be Ned’s, not quite Jon’s style, and Theon himself always wore gloves made of silk rather than leather.
They’re just gloves, he tells himself. They’re the same as any Northman wore. It’s stupid to be so sentimental.
But he takes them into his hands anyway, and he can’t help the teary laugh that bubbles up from his throat.
Stupid, he continues to chide himself, but he shakes his head, trying to work up the words to respond. ]
I had so much time to think. To think about what I’d done. Maximus says it was only three days, but it wasn’t. It could have been a hundred years. A hundred years since I betrayed him.
[ His best friend, his only friend. ]
I should have gone back. I should have been there. I should have died too. Alongside him.