[ Theon doesn’t usually stay long for similar reasons. Stasis reminds him of the crypts, and he never liked the crypts. He’s surrounded by ghosts, some of them his own. He hopes some of these people will wake, and he hopes some of them never will.

Theon is clearly the runt of the litter. He’s the youngest of the entire family, and he doesn’t stand much taller than his sister. His uncles are such tall, imposing men, all strong and unbending. Theon is a frail creature now, white haired and starved. They’d never recognize him. ]

My mother's name is Alannys. My sister’s name is Asha. I had a brother named Rodrik.

[ Though his other brother was named Maron, thus continuing the theme. ]

There are two gods.

[ He furrows his eyebrows, doing his best to remember. He can’t recall much about the religion of the Drowned God, but he doesn’t need his uncle’s teachings to remember the basics. ]

The Drowned God and the Storm God. Uncle Aeron must have met them both. The Storm God sends storms to lures ships to destruction. The ironborn came from the Drowned God’s watery halls, and when we die, that’s where we’re meant to return, but you have to be near the sea.

[ He furrows his eyebrows, halfway glaring at his priest uncle in his pod. You see?, he thinks. I remember just as well as you do. ]

There is no sea in Winterfell or the Dreadfort. Or here.