nysalogs | Semi-closed

[ He tries to laugh, but it’s soft and breathless, a true feat for a body that looks as though it shouldn’t even be capable of breathing.

What do you think?, he wants to snap. Isn’t it obvious? But he dares not. Jon isn’t Ramsay, but Theon has learned that any man is capable of cruelty when provoked. Instead of sharp words, he fixes Jon with a stare instead, haunted eyes gazing out from a face that has grown far too thin. He nods.

Please don’t make me repeat them. ]

I was beneath the Dreadfort. For how long, I don't know. Months. Years.

[ It can't have been years, but it feels like it, even now. ]

[It's hard to look at Theon and even worse to feel him staring. Unnerved, he looked away, first at the ground and then around the room. Anything to have a moment away from the decrepit form before him.

This was far worse than anything he'd seen before.]

You didn't escape yet?

[He won't ask about the torture. He knew from Stannis that Arya was supposedly married to Ramsay, though that didn't sound right. Beyond him only knowing of Sansa's marriage, Arya was missing...she couldn't have been caught only to be sold as a bride.]

Did you see my sister?

[ Is there ever really escape?, he thinks bitterly. He’s still here. He’s found me just as he would have found me in Westeros.

He doesn’t respond at first. He simply closes his eyes, only briefly. The story is long, so long, and he’s already had to try to repeat it for Asha. He’s still not certain if she believed him or simply thought him mad, but he doesn’t look forward to spinning the tale again. At least Jon has only asked one question, and it’s the funniest one of them all. He huffs out another laugh. He can’t help himself. ]

We meant to make for the Wall. You would have been in for a surprise if she got there.

[ They never would have made it alone, he knows. Jeyne was already suffering from frostbite by the time they made it to the crofters’ village, and what is he but a pile of bones ready to fall apart at any moment? ]

People are such fools. Put any girl in the right clothing and they’ll think her a Stark.

[ Ramsay wasn’t fooled, though. He and Jeyne both knew, so Jeyne had to remain Arya. ]

No, I never saw your sister. It was a ruse.

[Make for the Wall, just as the Theon and Sansa had done in his Westeros. Somewhere along the way, Theon broke off with Sansa and left her with Brienne. He went to the Iron Islands and eventually made his way to Daenerys and Dragonstone. He was curious about what happened to him, but there was no way this Theon would know that.

This was a rougher journey than that one anyway.]

She wasn't Arya?

[He can feel his heart drop in his chest, fear and relief surging through him in tandem. Stannis had said Ramsay had his sister, he claimed that she was being forced to marry him and that Stannis was going to rescue her...

...but all of it had seemed so unreal. How could Arya have been taken? She had disappeared from King's Landing, gone off into the wilds on her own. For so long, he thought her dead. If he couldn't find her, how would the Boltons?

But knowing who Ramsay was, seeing what he had done, it was hard not to believe his sister had been taken. Fear was more powerful than hope.]

Who was she?

[ He shakes his head. The real Arya would have never even let Ramsay touch her. She would have beat his face in if he even tried. It wouldn’t have ended well, but the fact that Jeyne hadn’t done anything of the sort was proof enough.

And then the color of her eyes. ]

The steward’s girl. Jeyne Poole.

[ It gives him almost as much relief to say her name as it does to say his own. This isn’t Westeros, Jeyne isn’t awake, and the Ramsay who dwells here knows only Sansa to be his wife. He breathes deeply, shuddering as he smirks ever so slightly. ]

I saved her.

[ He broke her ribs and they both froze on the trek through the snow, but he saved her. ]

[That doesn't sound right. The last he saw of Jeyne Poole was the night of the feast for King Robert. He caught of a glimpse of her and Sansa from the hall, both girls excited and giggling. She was about Sansa's height was slightly fairer coloring. Using her for Arya, that didn't make any sense.]

She looks nothing like Arya.

[Unless the one from Theon's world was smaller and darker? But even in personality, Jeyne could never pass for Arya. His sister was wild, possessing what their father called 'wolf blood.' The steward's daughter wouldn't have anything like that about her, no matter the world.]

Good. [She made it away from Ramsay, at least.] It doesn't matter the world, you still save someone, Theon.

[ That makes him laugh. It’s a wry rasp of a chuckle that makes his frail shoulders shake, but it truly is the ghost of Theon’s laugh, a sign that he’s still in there somewhere.

Still as humorless as ever. At least someone hasn’t changed.

Jeyne Poole doesn’t look like Arya. She’s too old, too tall, and her eyes aren’t the same as Arya’s. She acts more like Sansa than Arya, and anyone who might had recognized her in Winterfell was long dead. ]

As I said. People are fools, and the Boltons have Winterfell.

[ He pauses, fixing Jon with a stare. ]

No one could know who she really was. She could never say her name. True names around Lord Ramsay were—they were dangerous. Better to forget them all together.

[It's a sickening laugh, even if it's not meant to disturb him. It was the sort of laugh that should belong to a madman, though it came from the face of a corpse.

He can't help flinching, unsure of what to make of this Theon.]

They won't for long.

[He doesn't know the way things will go in this other Westeros, but given the similarities and the stories he was told, he had to believe that Winterfell would be theirs again and Ramsay Bolton would fall.]

You have your name here?

[He didn't know how to frame that question. Was Theon coming back to himself or did he still fear his name?]

[ You will never understand, he wants to say, but he holds his tongue. Theon thinks more carefully before he speaks these days, and he finds Jon’s question to be…complicated. He knows his name, but for how long? It would be so easy to become Reek once more, and what if he never escapes again? ]

Theon.

[ He responds carefully, his voice half a whisper, as though he’s afraid someone might overhear. ]

But he won’t like that. He never liked it. I remember now. He was angry when he first woke here. He was angry that he had to call me Theon.

[He wouldn't understand, having only seen the after effects of both Sansa and Theon's torture. He heard the games and only seen one form of it, but this was different. This was a level of cruelty that he would never have been able to fathom.]

I know he won't. He has no way to hide now. He can't come at you the same way as before.

[Which was no comfort, really. It meant that Ramsay would adapt his style.]

Theon, you should think about staying with Claire and Sansa.

You don’t know him.

[ Not like I do. Theon recognizes that this Ramsay is not the same Ramsay who did these things to him, but can there really be that many differences? The other Theon still took Winterfell, after all. The other Theon still carries all the sins of the Theon who stands before Jon now. He thinks he can apply his experiences with the other Ramsay to this Ramsay, and the Bastard of Bolton is an adaptable man.

You should also think about minding your own business, he thinks bitterly. There was a time when he would have simply glared and made a cutting remark, but Claire has requested the same of him. Theon knows they only suggest it because they care, but he’s still hesitant. He shakes his head. ]

Maximus isn’t Lord Ramsay. They look alike, but--they're not the same.

[ Lord Ramsay, a habit he can’t bring himself to drop. ]

And it’s safer for Sansa and Claire if I stay here.

No, I dont.

[Only Sansa knew him on the level that Theon did. If he had listened more, Rickon wouldn't have died and Stannis wouldn't have been tortured. He knew very little of this sort of cruelty and had no desire to understand. He had seen depraved actions before, things done for the sake of wickedness, but it was nothing on this level.

He was tired of the games from their world, the people that inflicted misery. That was something that could be found anywhere, but the taint of their world was difficult to escape and left a bitter taste in his mouth.]

I'm not concerned about Maximus.

[Only how easy it might be to draw Theon back in.]

What do you think he will do? He pledged himself to Daenerys.

[ It’s undeniable that Theon is still an easy target, wavering somewhere between two identities. It would be so simple to push him back into the skin of Reek once more. After all, he never would have left Ramsay or saved Jeyne if he hadn’t been urged to do so by someone else. He’s glad he did it, though, as foolish as it all was. He doesn’t regret it. ]

I—I don’t know...

[ He admits it in a rasp of a response. He knows Ramsay well, but he doesn’t know what he hopes to accomplish by pledging himself to Daenerys here, where houses mean nothing and Westeros isn’t at war and he's already been legitimized. He draws his brows together and tries to walk himself through it. ]

He…he’s already thrown away his ability to earn anyone’s trust here. He may be trying to make up for his missteps in some way. He can’t go through you or Sansa, so he’s going through someone else instead.

You don't believe he can change?

[It was frustrating to him that Ramsay would make that attempt with Daenerys. He likely thought he could charm or persuade her with his mind games. However, it was a risky move. He had to be aware that she would have spoken to others from their world, particularly Sansa.

He didn't want to give Ramsay the benefit of the doubt. He'd done that before and failed.]

Do you still think he's a danger?

[ That question causes him to snap his head up, an angry fire in his eyes closer to that of the old Theon than to Reek.

How can you ask that?, he wants to scream. You of all people. After what he did to your sister, and to your brother. ]

Look at me.

[ It’s the first time he’s blatantly called attention to his appearance, but he’s barely held together and it’s all Ramsay’s doing. He was such a proud young man once. Now he looks more like a wraith than a prince or a lord. ]

He could have changed after any part of what he did to me. He could have chosen to spare me. He could have passed me by just once. He never did.

[ Maybe there is more to it than that. All men can change, if there’s enough driving them to do so. Theon watched as Greatjon Umber changed his stance on Robb’s authority just as soon as he lost his fingers to Grey Wind’s teeth. He had been impressed and inspired. Theon himself was forced to become a completely different man just to avoid punishment, but why can Ramsay gain from truly changing? He doesn’t see it. ]

Why would he change now?

[He didn't believe it was possible. Ramsay was too much of a monster to pull from that sort of life. It was what gave him pleasure and satisfaction. But he knew what Ramsay would try to insist, he had seen it in his public post when Theon went missing. He needed to know what Theon thought of it, he needed to hear it, as there was no one better who would know (save for Sansa).]

He won't let you go. You or Sansa.

[He didn't need to understand Ramsay perfectly to know that. They were his toys and he would continue to torment them, so long as there was a small bit of fear he could glean from them.]

I don't know what to do about him. Death isn't permanent here and if I try to bring him to justice, Sansa could suffer as well.

[ Even if death were permanent, Theon would never outright request Ramsay’s death. His mind is a strange place to be, and a dangerous place to navigate. He doesn’t want to be Reek, but sometimes there’s a certain solace in that name. Reek has no past. Reek was born in the depths of the Dreadfort and has no guilt to weigh him down. Theon Greyjoy is a burdened, stained name, but it’s still who he would rather die as.

He knows that won’t be allowed, though. He knows that everything Jon has said is right, and what other way is there to shake someone like Ramsay? Theon simply shrugs, looking lost. ]

Then there’s nothing to be done about him. Concern yourself with Sansa.

[ Ramsay’s claws are clearly buried more deeply in Theon than they are in Sansa, but Sansa is more important. She never deserved this. ]

He won't be frightened.

No. I don't think anything frightens him.

[Ramsay fed on fear, but there was little that raised it in him. Even while being beaten to a pulp, he smiled and laughed. Did fear exist in him?]

And Daenerys? Should I worry about what he plans for her?

[Both women could look after themselves, but there was no predicting what Ramsay was going to do. Theon at least had a little bit of insight, but could he even say what was going through the madman's mind? It wasn't something he wanted to really even ask Theon. It would take him down a frightening path that might not sit well with him.

That haunted expression might never leave, but he didn't want to remind Theon how it came to be there.]

If you need it, let Claire and the others help you. Don't keep to yourself.

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