Chapter Text
Sometimes Theon wished he was more religious. That he could get on his knees in the godswood and pray and feel like it was doing anything other than leaving the wind to carry his thoughts away. It might make him feel better if it had any meaning. Maybe he could convince himself that it wasn’t a mistake that he was brought into this world. That his very existence wasn’t a curse.
His father liked to tell him often that if he hadn’t had to practically rape his mother to have all of his kids that he wouldn’t believe that Theon was even his. Which wouldn’t make any sense considering he was a spitting image of the old man just like his siblings. Lord Balon wasn’t the main reason that he was called a curse but he hated his father more than his mother. Always had, always would. At least with his mother he knew that she had a reason to hate him for simply existing.
He loved her though. Even when she had raised her hand to strike him for merely looking in her direction or spit insults at him for being in the same room. And he could try to convince himself that he hated his father but the truth was, Theon was a liar and mostly to himself. Because if he hated his father then he had to hate his mother because they treated him the same but he loved his mother so he had to love his father.
He just wanted them to love him too. Always had. His mother adored his sister and his father had indulged his brothers despite being such an unapproachable man. But he got drunken head cuffs from Rodrik, cruel jests and tricks from Maron, vicious mockery from Asha, and nothing but contempt from both parents. He didn’t understand when he was little. Until he was almost four he believed his name was curse until Uncle Euron had taken him away on a raid. Even older Theon still had the same questions.
Why? Was he that awful of a baby? Did the cruelty of the ironborn live in his soul to the point that it scared his family? Or was he really just…born a curse? Came from the womb bringing despair and pain and bound to sow it with every word and action?
The Starks seemed to think so. He was their curse now thanks to King Robert. Theon was fairly certain he had seen his mother sobbing in happiness to Lord Stark when it was decided to take him from Pyke. Not a single one of the north men had a kind look or word to give him and the reception in Winterfell had been just as cold. Colder in Lady Stark’s case.
She reminded him of his own mother. The disgusted glares and stiff half-snarls when he was nearby. He couldn’t help gravitating towards her for it. Hopelessly searching for any little bit of approval to come from someone that showed so much contempt for him. She couldn’t stand him. Constantly told him to stay with Maester Luwin or Old Nan and to stop following her around like a lost dog. She’d just had a baby so she couldn’t raise her voice to yell at him without disturbing the baby but he knew it was waiting there if he didn’t leave.
He followed her anyway. Trailed behind her with things that his own mother used to make him carry if he stuck with her for too long. To make him useful instead of a nuisance. Would offer them up to Lady Stark like he would his mother with his head down to hide from the worst of the backhands that always came. Lady Stark only ever seemed to sigh and snap at him to go find someone else to bother.
She never hit him. Even a couple months in. Theon flinched every time a hand was raised in his vicinity but her palm never met his cheek. The only time she got close was when he accidentally woke up baby Arya. He had felt the rush of air across his face as he cringed back, waiting for the pain to fall as the baby’s crying filled his ears. When nothing came he managed to open his eyes to see that Lady Stark’s hand had stopped a hairsbreadth away. Close enough he could feel the heat of her palm.
It was so strange that he had gotten the courage to look at her face and hadn’t understood the expression she wore. She stared at him for a long time as another woman took care of Arya. Under her gaze he lowered his head again but kept his cheek open to her like he knew his mother liked. If he tried to hide or duck away she always hit him harder.
But nothing came. Only a sort of choked noise and Lady Stark rushing away. Theon knew in an instant that he had done something wrong and shifted nervously in the nursery. Waiting for her to come back to punish him. When the minutes ticked by he cautiously moved around to clean the room like he had seen one of the women doing to hopefully appease Lady Stark. Then he returned to where she had left him and waited. She would either be back for him or he was to stay there until a thrall collected him for her. That’s how it was with his mother.
No one came and got him. Not until baby Arya was brought back with the darkness of night. He was used to staying in the same place for hours at a time and was content to wait for when he could leave. The woman that came into the room to light the hearth shrieked at the sight of him and brought more than Lady Stark rushing into the nursery. But he only looked at her then down to his feet to continue waiting. In silence like his mother always wanted out of him.
“Is this where you’ve been?” Lady Stark asked stiffly. Theon only nodded. “Why?” It was hard edged and he understood that meaning.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, knowing that that was always expected first. “You left because I upset you so I stayed.” His mother never wanted to be accused of leaving him behind or that it was her fault that he stayed where he had been left.
“You…” The edge hadn’t left her voice, only seeming to grow sharper. “Go. Get out.”
Theon only hesitated for a moment before ducking out of the room. Quick steps brought him through the halls and up stairs to his chambers well away from the Stark children. His own room at Pyke had been secluded so he wasn’t unused to isolation. He would try again tomorrow to not upset Lady Stark.
She liked him even less now. Her looks were sneering and angry but he continued to trail after her. Carried things for her and tried to seem as insignificant as possible to avoid her wrath. Rarely did he do anything without looking to her first for permission but rarely would she look back at him so he didn’t do anything. Back at Pyke it was his mother’s way or no way. In Winterfell it was Lady Stark’s way or no way and he could do that.
There had been a whisper or two about him being Lady Stark’s dog when he was away from her. That he was trained to heel like a bitch. It always had his shoulders rising to his ears and heat rushing to his face to hear. They weren’t much different than the comments back home.
They didn’t stop him. Always right there for Lady Stark the moment he was allowed to be. He didn’t know why she hadn’t hit him yet when he messed up or trailed her somewhere he shouldn’t have. It felt strange to not have aching bruises. Like it wasn’t right. The only injuries he had were self-inflicted when he messed something up or broke a cup or plate. He also wasn’t sure why she hadn’t berated him yet. Or hurled a few insults and curses. He was left uncomfortable after six months but maybe that’s what she wanted.
Sometimes his mother had gone weeks without speaking to him. Would shove him off onto one of his brothers or father or Dagmer with strict orders to them to not let him leave their side. Then she would relent and allow him to follow her around again. He had never felt more uncomfortable in those weeks when he wasn’t with her. Maybe Lady Stark was employing a similar method of punishing him.
It wasn’t Lady Stark that first hit him. It was the maid that took care of Arya when Lady Stark was busy. Theon hadn’t even realized that he had done something that caught her attention until he felt the sting of her palm on his cheek. The sound rang in his ears for a moment before she was scolding him for ruining one of the baby’s blankets he had been putting in the crib. For a moment he looked at the wool blanket to see if anything was wrong with it but he couldn’t find anything.
“I don’t-”
“Don’t talk back to me.” Another slap caught the same cheek. He turned his head to hide behind his hair but didn’t say anything. “Go fetch another.”
The order was followed. He kept his head down the entire time and when the maid sat next to the hearth, he hovered near her chair. Lady Stark was busy and had told him to stay out of her way until supper, so he had stayed with the maid. His foot scuffed the floor but a glare from the maid had him stopping. It was likely best to stick with the maid.
She hit him a lot. When he wasn’t trailing Lady Stark he was with Elainne. Helping her with her duties in caring for baby Arya or cleaning when she ordered him to. This felt more normal so Theon followed along. Carrying things for her and fetching others that she needed. If he wasn’t back fast enough she had an open palm waiting or if he had screwed something up along the way or grabbed the wrong thing. Sometimes he didn’t do any of that she still called him simple minded or slow.
It was nearly a year since Theon had been brought to Winterfell and it felt more like home than before. Elainne was no longer Arya’s maid but he still trailed her on her duties. Stuck to her when Lady Stark didn’t want him around. Once he had even followed her to her room because she wanted something from him that he hadn’t really understood but he did what she said anyway.
Lord Stark wanted him to learn how to use a sword and shoot a bow so his time was half spent in the training yard with Ser Rodrik. He didn’t really like it. It didn’t feel right. Like it was something he shouldn’t be doing because Lady Stark and Elainne hadn’t told him to. Elainne really didn’t like him not being with her. Her stinging palms greeted him on the days he trailed her through the castle but she never told him to go away. So he stayed and did what she said when he wasn’t training.
Lady Stark didn’t want him around as much anymore. She constantly told him to do something else, to bother someone else but he continued to follow her around. He did his best to be of use to her but always felt like he was falling short. Those looks of utter contempt settled heavier each time but made him stick to her more.
There had only been a few times where she had gotten royally upset with him and Theon was waiting for the day that she finally hit him like she should. The expectation hovered with her mounting anger but it didn’t snap. Didn’t fall to bruise his cheek like Elainne’s did every day. And when it did snap it was a tidal wave.
He was on his knees in the unused nursery in front of the dead hearth with Elainne in the chair. She had a hand in his hair to keep his head between her thighs while his own were clenched together in his lap to avoid touching her. This was something she had been teaching him to do for a few weeks now but he didn’t think he was getting any better. Not with her constant berating and sharp strikes when she pulled him back by his hair.
Neither of them noticed the door being opened until Lady Stark’s furious voice had Elainne shoving him back. Theon wiped at his mouth and chin with a look between the two women. Elainne was saying something, placing blame even though he wasn’t sure why blame needed to be placed. She said it was perfectly alright to do this. That it was normal for boys his age.
“Theon.” The sharp snap of Lady Stark’s voice had his head lowering and shoulders rising but not enough to hide his cheek from her. It was still faintly bruised from when he got slapped for bringing Elainne the wrong rag the other day. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, unable to find more of his voice.
“Theon.” The prompt for him to speak up had unfamiliar tears burning his eyes. This wasn’t how he normally got into trouble.
“I’m sorry.”
It was louder but he was fighting back the tears. His mother and father always hit him harder when he cried. Greyjoys didn’t cry, ever. He sniffed and unclenched his hands to wipe at his eyes, doing his best to make sure Lady Stark wouldn’t see.
There was a familiar babble from Arya on Lady Stark’s hip that had Theon staring unseeing at the floor. She was always more upset with him when he caused problems when she was with her children. His hands fell from his face to settle unmoving in his lap. He was afraid to make her anymore upset. If he did then she might permanently leave him somewhere or tell him to never bother her again.
“Why are you in here, Theon?” Lady Stark asked, using his name in a clear attempt to get him to look at her. His mother did the same thing when she wanted all of his face to strike. And it had him lifting his head to look at where she was standing a few steps away from him.
“I…” He didn’t know how to answer that. Not in a way that would appease her. “Elainne,” he settled on with a quiet voice.
“Did she bring you in here?”
Theon glanced over at where Elainne was seething next to the crib then back at Lady Stark’s impassive expression. A small nod was given to her. There was a stifling silence then she gave a sharp command to Elainne to join her as she left the room. Nothing was said to him. It left him shaking with unshed tears on the rug next to the dark hearth waiting.
It was pitch black in the room and cold enough to have him shivering by the time the door opened again. He didn’t know who it was but the torch light from the hall cast an orange glow across the floor. A shadow moved and footsteps came towards him.
“Theon?” Lord Stark’s voice didn’t have him lifting his head. “Come on, off the floor.” Strong hands reached out to grab his arms to physically haul him off the rug. “You have my apologies for leaving you in here for so long.”
“Did Lady Stark say I could leave?” He asked, keeping his head down but cheek bared. His father hated being questioned.
“...yes.”
It felt like a lie but he couldn’t accuse Lord Stark of that. So he followed him out of the room without another word, trailing him through the castle halls down to the kitchen. Gage greeted them and set a bowl of hare stew on the table that Lord Stark sat him at. There was a quiet order for him to eat that he followed despite the pit in his stomach telling him to puke instead. Everyone was angry with him like back home, he could feel it.
Lord Stark was quiet in taking him to his chambers. Even going as far as to enter with him and hover near the hearth to light it. Theon waited for the blow to come as he slipped out of his clothes.
“Elainne was removed from Winterfell,” Lord Stark finally said. It had Theon stiffening, hands curled in the furs he was sitting under.
“I’m sorry.” He stared at his pale fists with a wash of shame over him.
“What are you apologizing for?”
Whether it was a trick question or not, he couldn’t look at Lord Stark. “You sent her away because of me,” he said, doing his best to not lower his voice. “I…cost you someone.” Maybe if he had been better at what Elainne wanted then Lady Stark wouldn’t have walked in on them.
“Partially, yes,” Lord Stark agreed. Guilt rose with the shame. “But not because you did something wrong.” That didn’t sound right but Theon couldn’t argue. “You’re my ward and it’s my duty to take care of you, and I failed.”
“No…no, I-” He cut himself off to avoid earning Lord Stark’s wrath by arguing with him.
“You are not at fault for what Elainne did.”
Lord Stark left him by himself shortly after that. Theon curled up in the bed facing the hearth to watch the fire. He had gotten Elainne removed from the castle. The curse in him had come crawling back out to doom her like it had everyone back home. Before long it would seep into Winterfell to poison everything.