[ It’s strange to experience, and he’s clearly unnerved by the experience of sliding so far backwards, even for such a brief moment.
Reek is someone Theon was forced to become, and he obliged to an extreme in order to avoid more pain. Remember your name, your new name. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with freak. Behave the way he wants you to behave, and he’s less likely to hurt you. Everyone is less likely to hurt you. That was the way this thoughts went beneath the Dreadfort.
In a way, Theon has traded in one coping mechanism for another. He doesn’t smile so much anymore—and how can he? He doesn’t laugh or make cutting remarks, except in his thoughts. But when a situation arises in which he could be hurt or threatened, he feels himself being pulled back into that dark place, and he slips far too easily back into the role of Reek.
He feels sick, but he tries to focus on what Claire is saying rather than the churning of his stomach. His name. Theon, not Reek. He tries to focus on the feeling of the familiar leather gloves and the knowledge that they belonged to someone important to him, someone who was honorable enough to have never wanted things to carry this far out of hand. With a shaky breath, he nods. ]
I’m still Theon.
[ There’s still no power in his voice, but he’s actually looking at her now. ]
I’m sorry. I wasn't--I couldn't be Theon. Not then. Not when I was kept by Lord Ramsay. I had to be someone else. He didn't like when I forgot.
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Reek is someone Theon was forced to become, and he obliged to an extreme in order to avoid more pain. Remember your name, your new name. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with freak. Behave the way he wants you to behave, and he’s less likely to hurt you. Everyone is less likely to hurt you. That was the way this thoughts went beneath the Dreadfort.
In a way, Theon has traded in one coping mechanism for another. He doesn’t smile so much anymore—and how can he? He doesn’t laugh or make cutting remarks, except in his thoughts. But when a situation arises in which he could be hurt or threatened, he feels himself being pulled back into that dark place, and he slips far too easily back into the role of Reek.
He feels sick, but he tries to focus on what Claire is saying rather than the churning of his stomach. His name. Theon, not Reek. He tries to focus on the feeling of the familiar leather gloves and the knowledge that they belonged to someone important to him, someone who was honorable enough to have never wanted things to carry this far out of hand. With a shaky breath, he nods. ]
I’m still Theon.
[ There’s still no power in his voice, but he’s actually looking at her now. ]
I’m sorry. I wasn't--I couldn't be Theon. Not then. Not when I was kept by Lord Ramsay. I had to be someone else. He didn't like when I forgot.