|| trodden Snow || a Theon Greyjoy fic ||

|| trodden Snow ||

She was like him in a sense.

A captive.

A highborn ward, they called her.

She carried the essence of a true northman.

Her eyes were as cold as ice, that was the first thing he had noticed about her.

She betrayed nothing and everything.

A perfect contradiction.

-

He could see wisps of cold icy air leaving her lips and he wanted to do nothing more than to steal it away. He wanted to dominate her mind, to be the reason her eyes sparkled, the reason she smiled, the reason that soft laugh of hers tinkled out of her lips.

They said that war was a terrible thing, that war was something nobody should ever be subjected to. He was young, he had his whole life ahead of him and he could seek his glory elsewhere. There was no reason for him to throw his life away, searching for the blood and honor he would receive if he had participated in that war.

"What is it you wish for," she had asked him, her icy eyes softening so infinitesimally if he had blinked he would have missed it.

He did not answer her. He pressed a long solemn kiss on her forehead and mounted the mahogany steed. Back straight as an arrow, eyes as sharp as a knife, and lips as sweet as honey, Theon Greyjoy did not look back.

And he regretted it.

Because he did not know that would be the last time he could have ever looked at her. She would live on only in his dreams and nightmares.

Now that time is something he has in excess, he keeps himself tethered to the small bits of sanity remaining in his mind by thinking of her.

What did she look like when he left?

Did she cry for him? Did she sigh at the thought of never seeing him again? Or did she smile? Was her love for him all a lie? Did she secretly wish for him never to return? Was she happy that she would never meet him again?

It didn't matter anyway, what she thought of him that day.

Because he is not Theon Greyjoy anymore.

He is Reek.

-

"T-Theon?"

His ears prick at the familiar yet unfamiliar name that tumbled out of a nostalgic pair of lips. He bites back a yelp when he feels a warm hand clench around his bruised wrist. He flinches as you place your hand around his cheek, so tender and so kind, he almost cried at the sweetness and gentleness of your actions.

"Seven Hells," she curses, "what happened to you?"

He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and to kiss you. Memories of his last day with you swam with such clarity in his mind it hurt.

He understood now.

He must have loved you.

"I t-think you've m-mistaken me for someone else, milady."

"W-wha?"

"I am Reek."