nysalogs | Semi-closed

[His own blood. She can only imagine was it was like, gaining the injuries he has now.]

I can promise you that anything that needs to be done, you won't see blood. [He'll probably (hopefully) be out for the things that will require some clean up: his teeth. He'll be in a miserable state after, and that's saying something. He'll either be staying with her, Jamie, and Sansa, or she'll be grating on Max's nerves once more.]

I've been fixing bodies longer than you've been alive. I'm going to do everything in my power to make this... tolerable, and I know how to do that well. You've suffered enough for one lifetime. I'm not going to inflict any more, or let you wallow in it. Understood?

[ He doesn’t know what it is to not be miserable. He doesn’t strive for happiness anymore, he doesn’t strive for acceptance. Now he would just like to be left untormented.

He looks uncertain, frightened, but he gives a hesitant nod to show that he understands. Claire seems to think that these things need to be done and that they’ll help in the long run. ]

What…what are you going to have to do, then?

[She was hoping he'd not ask that. Not right now, at least. Reluctance paints her features, but after taking a breath, she explains.]

Well. Those teeth aren't doing you much good as they are. I think it's best if they come out. [Just what he wants to hear. Claire's quick to add:] That will be the worst of what needs to be done. And I'll medicate you well enough that you won't be awake for it. Everything else will just take time. Stretching out the parts that healed incorrectly, and getting strength back.

But only when you're ready. I'm not going to force you into any of this, Theon.

[ He knows he shouldn’t ask, but he thinks he would rather know than be left in the dark. Maybe he can gather the courage to endure it—but what she says only drains his face of what little color it had to begin with.

He falls silent, running his tongue over the jagged splinters that remain of his teeth. They’re painful, and she’s right, they aren’t doing him much good, but he manages. Isn’t that enough? He still feels pain, even when he’s asleep. He closes his eyes, his expression pinched. ]

It’s…enough. He left me with enough. I can still eat.

[ He’s clearly frightened and trying to come up with excuses. He can hardly eat at all. ]

You can eat, but I know it's painful. [God forbid he bite his tongue or lip on accident. Those teeth will draw more unwanted attention than no teeth at all, and with so much physical discomfort. Gently, she rubs his arm, as if she could warm some courage back into him.]

It's scary, but I do believe you'll feel so much better once it's done. I don't know how long you've been living this way, but it's not something you need to endure any longer, Theon. Theon doesn't have to live like this.

[She tries to laugh, but it's more like a breath of air.]

... and if it's because you really enjoy my concoctions, I can find occasions to still make your meals.

[Meals that have been mostly liquid and sprinkled with vitamins and such. After seeing how thin he is beneath his clothing, she's glad she's been cautious when it comes to his menu.]

[ The sound of his name snaps him back away from the edge of that dark place again; the place where he defends what’s been done to him, or tries to make it seem just a little bit better than it really is.

For a brief moment, he considers telling her that he doesn’t enjoy her concoctions, but he’s learned not to complain. He was starved for too long, he’s eaten rats, and any food that he doesn’t retch back up is better than nothing at all. He doesn’t have the humor to tell her anyway.

As he stares back down at his gloved hands, he quietly mumbles: ]

I don’t want to live at all.

[ It isn’t about his teeth. Even if Claire can relieve his physical pain, he’s still in constant fear and emotional pain. He still feels guilty for the things he’s done, and he still has’t found a way to free himself from that prison. ]

I never asked to, but I’m craven if I don’t. After all of this, I'm still craven if I don't carry on.

[The words are a knife, but a familiar one. He's not surprising her. It simply hurts to hear. It's never something she'd want for him.]

We'll make it easier to carry on, then.

[She steps closer, and if he doesn't move back, he'll be caught with a kiss to the forehead while he's busy looking down at his hands.]

I'm not giving up on you, Theon. I still think you can live a decent life.

[ He wishes he could go home. He wishes he could dwell in Winterfell alone with the ghosts until the Storm sweeps them all away. Maybe then he’ll finally see the Drowned God’s watery halls.

I did what was asked of me, he thinks miserably. I saved the girl. The other Theon saved Sansa. I’m of no use to anyone else. Why shouldn’t I just be allowed to stop existing?

He flinches only slightly at the contact, but he doesn’t move back. He just furrows his eyebrows and keeps his eyes downcast. ]

I wish I could apologize. Not just to Robb.

[ To those boys, to their mother, to Bran and Rickon. He has a growing list. ]

[He's paid for any crimes he's committed in his short life, but she understands there's a difference between a punishment and an apology. Wanting to apologize.]

I know. I'd forgive you for it all if I could, but it's not my place.

[It wouldn't mean anything.]

[ He gives a meek shrug, but he understands. Jon has already tried to offer forgiveness, and so has Sansa, but it just isn’t enough to feel any sort of real relief. ]

I know.

[ If only it were that easy. He closes his eyes again, trying to keep his breathing even. ]

I’m sorry. For saying all of this. I shouldn't have.

[ He wishes he could hide behind his smile the way he used to. ]

I always wanted you to simply talk to me. Don't apologize for it.

[In place of pulling him into the hug she wants to give, she smooths down some of his odd, white hair. It will never look right on him.]

Thank you for trusting me.

[Even if he does still look like a frightened rabbit, she knows.]

That means a lot to me, I hope you know.

[ He never trusted easily. Who ever got to see him so vulnerable? He always had his carefully constructed walls, his smile and his laughter and his japes. No one ever got to see that he was really just a frightened captive, unsure of his place in the world, unsure of whether or not each day would be his last.

Ramsay knocked those walls down, stripped him of all disguises, and forced that frightened captive outward. It’s worse than before, he has new habits to cling to, but in a way, this Theon is more earnest than the old Theon. There are still things he doesn’t say, but he really has nothing to hide behind, and he’s too tired to bother trying. ]

You’re one of the only people I trust.

[ He’s not even sure how it happened. ]

And I've yet to let you down, I think. So. I hope you continue to trust me, Theon, when I say you won't always feel how you do now. Trust me enough to give yourself another chance, like I would, hmm?

[He won't be miserable forever.]

[ Right now, he’s fairly certain he will be miserable forever. He still has so much to overcome, and he doesn’t think it’s even possible. ]

I’m not just going to kill myself if that’s what you’re worried about.

[ He would be too afraid of botching it and enduring even more pain. ]

I used to wish I were happy. Now I don’t care if I ever am. I just want things to be more like they used to.

I care if you're happy. That's not changed. It never will. So, that means you're going to have to be patient with me as we figure this out. All of it.

[The mess on the outside and the mess on the inside. But already she thinks she sees improvement. He doesn't shy away from her like he first did.]

I just want to be Theon.

[ He mumbles it like he’s been defeated, like he doesn’t care to fight anymore. Claire can work whatever magic she likes, but he just doesn’t see himself being capable of happiness. He isn’t certain he’s ever felt it to begin with. Fleetingly, maybe, but it always slipped through his fingers within the blink of an eye. ]

That’s all. Theon...Theon was never happy.

[Claire looks down at his gloved hands, and after a long moment, takes them in her own. As with everything with him these days, there's no real force: her grip is loose, should he want to pull them back.]

You are Theon.

[And no, he wasn't happy.]

I spent... a long time, not wanting to live. Living out of obligation. That's not a life. It's not going to be that way for you. [Not if she has any say in it.] Westeros is gone and you're going to remain Theon, because that's what you want. Maybe one day a happy Theon.

[ He flinches only slightly, but he lets her take his hands. He’s adjusting, but only to these gentle touches that he can easily maneuver his way out of. It helps that his hands are covered, he thinks. He had only been granted gloves when he was in the guise of a prince.

He doesn’t think of himself as more of a prince anymore. ]

But for how long?

[ He nearly whispers, looking lost and far away. His identity is a double-edged sword. He truly would rather die than be made back into Reek, but there’s still a touch of sick comfort in that name. Theon Greyjoy has done terrible things, things that he doesn’t know how to apologize for, but Reek hasn’t. Reek has no guilt. Reek lives only to obey and to serve. Perhaps that’s why it’s so tempting to be beckoned over the edge, back into the darkness where that old name still dwells. It’s terrifying, because the temptation is so very real and Ramsay hasn’t even been informed of his return. ]

I don’t think I know how to be happy.

[ It’s almost a childlike answer, but it’s the truth. ]

I don’t think I’m meant to be.

[Little, gentle touches, are her way to remind him that he's safe. They're going to have to work their way up to her examining him, looking over his injuries, but she's done this before. She knows how it goes. God only knows when he last had a hand touch him that only meant to comfort, not wound.

She looks down at his hands, in Robb's gloves, some of the fingers limp because there's nothing in them at all.]

You told me once that all anyone ever tells you is that you're wrong. And you are, thinking you're not meant to be happy. You've made mistakes. Terrible mistakes, but that doesn't make you a terrible person or deserving of... of what's been done to you.

You'll never be the Theon you were before. Not in any way, but I believe with all my heart that you can get to a point where living is no longer so burdensome for you. I'll do whatever I can to help you there.

[ Although he flinches, he does feel safer than he has in a long time. He wouldn’t have come out here with her if he didn’t, but he can’t read minds or know what to expect of others. A comforting touch can become something painful in an instant, even without meaning to be.

He flinches as her words as well. Being reminded of his mistakes, he considers briefly once more if being Reek isn’t easier…but she manages to draw him back away from the edge once more. He’s barely settled back in and it’s only beginning to set in just how difficult this is truly going to be. ]

Thank you.

[ He mumbles it softly, eyebrows knitting together. ]

Can I just be right about being Theon?

[ He has to say his name, or he might forget it. ]

Oh, Theon. Of course. [She won't ever stop repeating his name for him.] You will always be Theon. Always.

[She doesn't know what other name he had and can't bring herself to ask. Not yet.]

You won't slip back into what he made you. I know it.

[ He won’t say his other name out loud. If he does, he may very well stumble once more. It’s a struggle to separate Theon from Reek already, and he doesn’t want to forget. ]

Always.

[ He repeats the word in a whisper, trying to make himself believe it. He could make himself believe he was Reek, he can make himself believe this, even if it isn’t true. He hasn’t always been Theon, and he might not always be Theon either.

He feels reassured, but the entire thought process makes his head spin, and it makes him feel exhausted and sick. ]

Can we go back now? Please?

[Claire holds his hands for a moment longer. If she can get through this with her heart in one piece, it'll be a triumph. Taking a breath and mustering up a smile, she lets go so that he can walk.]

Good idea. About time we get some more food in you, as it is.

[This was more standing out in the sun and fresh air than a walk, but it's better than nothing.]

You're doing well, Theon. Don't forget that.

[ It’s more than he’s gotten in a long time, at least. Winterfell was cold and grey and the sun had been hidden for his entire stay there in Ramsay’s keeping. As for the Dreadfort—he was hardly ever above ground. His feet won’t carry him far anyway. Not just yet.

If you knew what was going on in my head, you wouldn’t say that, he thinks, but he just gives a meek, tired nod. It’s a difficult situation to understand, and he doesn’t feel like explaining it right now. ]

Aye. You’re going to turn me into Robert Baratheon if you keep feeding me as much as you do.

[ Wry humor, of course. He couldn’t possibly come anywhere close to Robert’s size by this point. ]

[That sounds a bit like the old Theon--or at least enough that it makes Claire smile easier, and she takes an educated guess:] The fat brother, I assume? [She's seen the two Baratheons outside of stasis.]

Fat isn't the goal. You've always been lean. Just a little more meat on your bones, and you will feel better, I assure you. You'll feel stronger.

[And maybe she can coax him into old hobbies, but she's not crossing that bridge just yet. Archery with seven fingers was possible, surely.]

Besides, if I let you get fat, I have to find you more clothes. I think not.

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reek - 2018-05-30 06:20 (UTC) - Expand

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