The Iron Thorn | Theon Greyjoy

21.

Theon

My day started with a pounding headache and a realization that southern wine might not agree with me. Though I did not know how or when exactly I ended up back in my own chambers, the important thing was that I had made it. I shook off the sluggishness I felt, washed the lingering smell of the feast off, and dressed myself, taking extra time to remove the dirt caked onto my boots before joining the others in the dining hall. It was apparent that they had been there much longer than I had thought, as they all were nearly finished with their breakfast. Jon greeted me as I sat next to him, then Massey, but not Robb. We'd hardly spoken about anything other than the King's arrival in days. I'd thought he would move past our squabble by now, but he hadn't. I certainly wouldn't be the first to bring it up. Massey and Jon carried the conversation through our meal. Eventually, though, Robb spoke up. Just, not with the apology he owed me.

   "Do you fancy a bit of sparring after breakfast?" He looked between Jon and I. "Father and Rodrik have taken Bran out for private training."

   "Aye," Jon said.

   "Aye," I echoed a moment later, with much less enthusiasm.

   "How fun. Arya isn't practicing with me today, my father and brother are otherwise occupied, and I cannot take another day of sulking about the garden," Massey added as she rolled her lips into her mouth.

   Her bruise had faded quite a bit, which pleased me. I wondered how much of our conversation at the dinner table last night she recalled. I remember being harsh— too harsh with her, quite frankly out of jealousy. I couldn't remember what I said, but I remembered it was enough to make her storm away from me. I couldn't remember much beyond that. Though, this morning, she didn't look upon me with disdain, but with a certain disconnect. As though she wasn't sure what to say to me, or how to be around me. I limited my glances at her, keeping mostly to myself.

   "The sky does not appear to be in our favor today. We'd better get out there before the weather breaks again," Robb announced as he lifted himself from the table.

   The others had finished their food so they followed Robb's suggestion. Massey stayed back a moment to say something to me.

   "We'll wait for you—"

   She was cut short by Robb taking her arm and strutting toward the entryway with her. When they reached it, he put his hand on her lower back to guide her through. An act of affection only truly meant for my eyes. Childish. Then again, he always was. People thought him so mature for such a young man, but I could see through that. Though, that knowledge didn't stop the jealousy I had felt when he touched her. I shoveled my food down hastily so that I could interrupt whatever time they were having with one another. Before I left, however, Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin entered the room having a conversation that I was definitely not meant to hear. She expressed how lovely she thought Massey to be. Her voiced faded some as they passed me, but I stayed silent and focused even harder on her words.

   "I do think he's rather keen on her," she said. "Maybe it is for the best that Ned makes a formal betrothal offer. I think that they would be happy together. I want that for him."

   I looked over my shoulder to see her uncertain eyes pleading for Luwin to assure her that she was making the correct decision. Before either of them could catch me staring, I whipped my head back around to my plate.

   "I think you're right, my lady. They're a fine match."

   "Very well, then. I'll speak to Ned tonight. I only hope that it's what Raymun has in mind for his daughter. I would not like to see them hurt. Either of them."

   Sitting there listening to them speak, it all hit me. How could I be so foolish? I'd forgotten myself. Massey was not mine. It didn't matter how I felt. It didn't matter how many hours we had spent learning about one another. Laughing together. It didn't matter that the memories of the kisses we shared haunted every night I'd had since I was first alone with her, no matter what wine or woman I tried to drown them with. It didn't matter that I had imagined myself with her, really with her. That I thought she might be able to love me. It didn't matter that it felt like a knife to the chest when Robb touched her. None of that mattered. I was a Greyjoy, and he was Robb Stark. It was never a battle I was meant to win.

   With my newfound revelation, my feet carried me out to the practice yard. I rounded the corner to see Massey sat atop the stone wall she always sat on. She looked beautiful. Since leaving the dining hall, she'd taken her hair from the braid it had been twisted in. It sat on her shoulders, wild and unkempt as she patted it down in an attempt to tame it. I never noticed the silver accents on her gown that reflected the daylight around her. I'd seen her in this gown a dozen times before, why hadn't I noticed its beauty? Though it didn't quite match, my chain was intertwined with her lace-trimmed bodice once again. She found a way to work it into gowns that didn't even compliment it. That's what made me so angry last night, I remembered just then. She wasn't wearing my chain. Something so small, why would I treat her so terribly for that? She let out a giggle to her right. A sweet sound that brought forth an illuminating smile. My favorite smile. She was the only thing in the world I could see at that moment. That is, until I could see Robb again. He moved toward her, perhaps closer than I'd ever seen them be. He brushed her hair off of her shoulder and ran his fingers down her arm until his hand found hers. He squeezed, but what's worse is, she didn't deny him. I felt as though I could vomit. I was the one who should be able to touch her so freely.

   But, it didn't matter.

   It couldn't matter.

   Could it?

   He released her hand and looked up to me. "Ah, there you are. Jon didn't hold up very long, so it's your turn now."

   With a locked jaw, I moved past him and grew a fresh disdain for the cocky gaze that had seemed to be burned into his eyes from birth. Massey smiled at me, but I didn't return the gesture. My eyes lingered on her's coldly before I looked away. Best to start my goodbye immediately. I found a wooden sword and returned to Robb.

   "No padding?" He teased with a pompous laugh.

   "Not necessary for the occasion, I'd say," I quipped back without missing a beat.

   He took his beginning stance, and so did I. We went at it for a few minutes, each of us able to hold off the other's advances. The storm from last night was threatening to return with a warning in the form of a light rain and a crack of thunder. I looked up to the sky for a little too long, and Robb seized the opportunity to move in. He hit me hard with his weapon. Then, again. He was too quick and too close for me to do anything aside from shove him back. My blood began to boil, everything I felt toward the both of them finding its way to the surface. My sword found his with a forceful smack of wood against wood. I could feel myself prevailing and his footing slipping on the excessively muddy ground.

   "Yield," I managed through gritted teeth.

   I glanced to Massey and Jon on the wall. Her nose was scrunched and her brow furrowed at the sight of our fight, a distraction that worked in Robb's favor again, and he pushed against me once more. Harder, more steady.

   "Yield," he returned in a strained grunt.

   I didn't, and he turned and brought his elbow up to find my nose. I felt something crack, and I fell to the mud. It was too meticulous, too exact. He must have done it on purpose.

   "I told you to yield," he taunted loudly, and Jon clapped. I felt the cold sensation of blood dribbling out of my bottom lip and onto my chin.

   "Fuck this."