Game of Thrones || The Sword of the Morning

Hard Truths

~~Evelyn Dayne~~

I walk through the courtyards of Winterfell, watching as soldiers and others bussel about, getting ready. There seems to be more of an urgency than before.

Theon stands by Sansa across the yard. I watch them for a moment as the two embrace as brother and sister before breaking off. Sansa walks away in a rushed pace, emotions bubbling on her face as Theon is left standing alone in the snow.

Despite how much I should hate him, I cannot.

I walk towards Theon, and he looks up, looking back down to the ground when he notices me looking at him. I move and stand right in front of him, his eyes still trained to the mud and snow covered ground.

"Can you please look at me?"

I ask, hope in my voice as Theon shutters slightly, shaking his head a little.

"I-I... I'm sorry for what I-"

I quickly cut him off, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace as a tear slides down my cheek.

"Would you just shut up about it already?"

I mutter, holding onto him tightly as Theon hesitates to return the hug. But eventually, he does. We hold one another for a long time as the busseling of the courtyard fades away for a moment, my mission to find Jon, gone for just that moment.

I pull away from Theon, still holding him as he has tears in his eyes.

"You've done so much to deserve around ounce of hate from me... But what's done is done. The past cannot change."

I place my palm onto his cheek, another few tears tricking down my cheeks as I smile softly.

"But the future presents us time to make amends. And I made mine with you long ago. I'm sorry I didn't show it before.."

I say and a look of pure relief washes over Theon's face, making him close his eyes with a smile as he pulls me back into a hug.

"Thank you, Evelyn.."

"You're my brother, Theon. Now and always, you are my brother."

"Now and always."

Theon mutters with happiness as I pull back, patting his shoulder one last time before turning around. Across the courtyard, Bran sits in his wheelchair, watching us as his empty eyes shows just a little bit of emotion.

Walking away, I go towards the entrance to the crypts. I honestly have no idea where Jon even is, but the crypt is my best guess. Either that, or he's off preparing the men like others are.

The steps down into the crypts are damp and dark as they've always been. I never was really supposed to be down here when I was growing up in Winterfell. I'm not a Stark. But I was raised like one.

"You may not share my blood, or my name. But you are a Stark of Winterfell."

Those were Lord Stark's words to me once a lifetime and a half ago. I miss him, even after all these years.

Walking along the long and narrow passageways of the crypts, the ancient members of House Stark remain in their resting places, the statues commemorating them along with direwolves at their feet.