Chapter Text
There was a silence that ran throughout Winterfell since the tragic fall of Bran Stark. The servants were too afraid to lift their eyes and look Lady Catelyn in the eyes, too afraid of seeing the grief or the anger that lay in those blue orbs. They were not so afraid to meet the kind eyes of Lord Eddard Stark as he travelled through the candle lit corridors and to the chambers where his son was kept, still asleep.
Ned tried to keep the atmosphere as positive as possible. He was to be the Hand of the King. His daughter, Sansa, was excited to travel to King's Landing and to be married to Joffrey Baratheon, though it would not happen for many years. His other daughter, Arya, was not so impressed to be travelling to King's Landing. She wished to stay in Winterfell, with her brother’s, where she could roll around in the mud and fight with swords. But Ned could not please everyone.
And he could not please Robb with his new decision either.
Entering the chamber where Bran slept soundly, Ned’s eyes landed on his wife, sat in the corner on a wooden chair, hunched over the work that she was weaving in her shaking hands. But her eyes were on Bran, and not on the work. She barely even blinked for a second - too afraid to take her eyes away and Bran to wake, or worse.
Ned moves slowly, not wanting to make much sound and disturb her, over to the other side of the fur covered bed his son lay upon his head ducking down to press a single, feather touch kiss against his pale forehead. He was as cold as a stone, not moving a muscle.
“Has he moved at all since I last saw him?” It had only been a day ago. Just the night before he went to bed, Catelyn not by his side to join him underneath their furs. She refused to leave Bran’s side and Ned could not force her, nor did he want to.
“Not at all. He hasn’t even moved his finger, not even a little. It’s almost like he’s dead, only the rise and fall of his chest tells me otherwise. Maester Luwin said the worst is over, that there is no fear of death no more but… I still fear.” Her eyes never once came away from the small boy surrounded by furs.
Ned’s throat closed up at the thought of losing Bran. He had already lost his father, older brother and younger sister. He could not lose a child as well. Bran was still so young, he had only seen his first beheading weeks past. Bran had always been the adventurer, could never stay with his feet on the ground and almost always causing Catelyn a heart attack and grey hairs. Now Bran would wake and never be able to feel below his waist again. He would never climb the walls and look over to the Kings Road again. He would never walk again. Never truly feel like a child again.
Deciding to not beat around, and just outwardly tell her while he was there, Ned told Catelyn the thing he had decided in his study just hours ago.
“I’m taking Theon with me to King's Landing. Keep him out of your hair.” It was not entirely true. Though Catelyn certainly had a disliking for the mischievous boy, a distaste for his whoring habits and his inappropriate language around the younger children, the real reason Ned was taking Theon with him was for his own peace at mind. As selfish as it may be.
“You’re taking Theon with you? But Robb-”
Ned’s eyes close, a deep sigh coming from between his pursed lips. Of course the first thing Cat worried about was her first son and his feelings. Robb was her boy, her first boy. Though Catelyn loved all of her children, Robb would always be her first son. Ned had of course thought of how Robb would take Theon going away to King’s Landing when he first came to the decision. He knew Robb would be upset.
“Robb will just have to deal with it, Cat. It’s for his good as well. They spend way too much time together and I don’t like it. You don’t like it. Robb trusts Theon too much. He’s a Greyjoy .”
The argument was pathetic. Theon was nothing like the other Greyjoy’s. Theon was the furthest away from Balon that a Greyjoy could be. But salt and iron still ran through his veins and the sea still stormed in Theon’s mind. It would only be a matter of time before the boy cracked. He would crack a lot sooner if Robb allowed him to return to the islands.
Catelyn gave no argument against it. Instead just letting her head hang, giving a small shake of her head as she resumed her weaving. There was nothing left to discuss. With a final kiss to his son’s head, Ned moved to kiss his wife as well, before leaving the chambers, the lit candles shaking while the door closed behind him.
With his last case of luggage placed on the back of the carriage, Theon turned to take a final look around Winterfell. Though the castle had never been a home for him, nor a place of comfort, Theon couldn’t help but look towards it with a heavy heart. He would miss the sound of Rickon running around the halls early hours of the morning and he would certainly miss the ale that flowed at every feast and got him and Robb so drunk they felt ill. He would definitely miss the little kitchen maid that he could never remember her name, and of course, his favourite whore in Winter Town, Ros.
But he would most of all miss the sulking teen by his side, Tully blue eyes narrowed like daggers into his father’s back. It caused a chuckle from Theon, hand resting on the saddle of his horse.
“I cannot believe Father decided this. He needs you to be his dog that much? So what? You can run with his letters and polish his sword for him?” The scoff that came from Robb was hateful, though Theon knew he did not mean it. With a simple shake of his head, his hand drops down onto Robb’s shoulder.
“We both know why he’s taking me with him. And it’s not to run with his letters and polish his sword.”
It was so Robb and Theon were split apart. Theon wasn’t stupid, though he barely paid attention in Luwin’s lessons. He knew Lord Stark and Lady Stark had a distaste for the amount of time he and their eldest spent together. They had a distaste for Theon in general. He liked to pretend that it wasn’t there, do everything to please Lord Stark, be as polite and gentlemanly as possible for Lady Stark. But it was never good enough. Much like everything he has done was never good enough for his own father.
Robb’s sulk continued as he turned to Theon, the other men that were climbing upon their horses and the Queen, her daughter and youngest son, followed along by Sansa and Arya just brushing past them as they moved to enter the wheelhouse. Sansa had already had her fit of the day about Theon joining them to King’s Landing, commenting on how his presence will ruin the whole experience for her.
Theon was not particularly too happy about having to spend more time with the redhead either. There was only so much conversation of knights, Princes and songs that he could hear before he was ready to shove his dagger into his ears and bleed the sound out.
“I guess this is it then, Greyjoy.”
“Aye, Stark. This is it.”
They both stared at each other, pretending to not take notice at the tears that were forming in the others eyes. Theon didn’t know who reached out first, but before long, both of them were wrapped in the others arms, taking a final moment.
“You will always be my brother.” Robb’s voice was quiet in his ear, a single tear dropping onto Theon’s furs. Theon took a deep breath in just before his own tears could proceed to fall, nodding his head while his hand patted against Robb’s back.
“And you mine. I’ll look after your sisters and father.”
And with that, their embrace was broken and Theon was climbing on top of his horse, taking the reins into his hands. Jon walked forward on his own horse, coming to a stop beside him.
“Can’t say I’m going to miss you, Greyjoy .” He hissed out his name, like it was some sort of disease. Theon supposes it was. Everyone said his name with the same sort of tone; never a kind one. Greyjoy was not a name that one carries with pride, but Theon did just to spite everyone else.
“I won't miss you either, Bastard .” Theon sneers the word back at him, almost missing the slight crack of a smile in Jon’s lips. The group begins to move forward as the gates to Winterfell were drawn open and they were welcomed into the green hills and the King’s road.
“I’ll miss having someone to piss off though, and someone to piss me off in return.”
Theon snorted, nudging his horse forward and away from Jon while he called over his shoulder.
“I’m sure you’ll find some sort of criminal to piss off at the wall.”