Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 9

There was a gentle knock. "Come in," she said carefully, unsure who it was.

The sight that greeted her was not one she enjoyed. Ramsay Snow stood shirtless and covered in blood, trousers barely clinging to his waist, as if he'd dressed in a hurry to join the fight. "Not to worry, my lady," he said, grinning like a mad cat as the blood dribbled down his chest. "The Ironborn won't harm you again."

"The Ironborn?" she said in disbelief.

He nodded, lingering in the doorway. "Do I frighten you, Lady Stark?"

"No," she said truthfully.

"The blood, it does not bother you?"

A test, that's what it was. And because she hardly knew him, she didn't know how to respond. Would he want her to act meek so that he could think of himself as superior? No, perhaps that would only let her know she could be made to feel afraid. He was the type that enjoyed violence... and she'd seen how Myranda behaved, she'd seen why he enjoyed her. He'd like hearing that Lyarra wasn't afraid.

"Well, no," she said calmly, so as to not sound pompous. "After giving birth, blood no longer bothers me. Besides, to be covered in blood after a battle and still be walking... unharmed..." She made a point to trace her hands over the exposed areas of his body, "It is a sign of fortitude. It would be foolish of me to be afraid of the mark of victory."

This, he seemed to like. "I'd like your help with something come morning," he said. "A gift of sorts."

That didn't bode well, but could she refuse? "Of course," she said calmly. "Without the Ironborn here, I'll be glad to do anything."

He eyed her carefully, as if searching for a lie. She must have convinced him. "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Ramsay," she said softly, letting him close the door.

She remained in her room until Anni came for her, calling her to help Ramsay. She was led down a series of hallways, closer to where Ramsay's room was. At last, they reached a wooden door into a stone chamber, the door ajar.

Lyarra carefully knocked on the door. "Hello?"

"Come in, my lady."

She heard Ramsay's voice within. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed open the door. Inside were two figures, Ramsay using a rag to clean off a man in a tub, who leaned down as if to not be seen.

She stepped forward cautiously, heart beating hard in her chest. The man in the tub had a back littered in deep scars, who had probably only healed recently after extreme trauma. She recognized the dark brown-red curls even before she reached his side.

Another test. A game. Ramsay was bringing her here, in front of Theon, with absolutely no warning. He wanted to see how she'd react– perhaps he wanted to re-test if blood bothered her, perhaps he wanted to see if she expressed anger.

"What's this?" she asked as innocently as she could, hands tucked together to hide the fact they were shaking. "Is this the gift you mentioned?"

A sick gift.

"Indeed!" said Ramsay, smiling as if it was a holiday. "Reek here did not let the Ironborn capture him last evening. He's earned a proper bath. I'd like you to give it to him. It requires a gentle hand."

She had not thought about what would happen if she saw Theon again. Honestly, she hadn't expected to. Even when Lord Bolton told her that he'd be here, she hadn't considered it. Had she despised him for a time? Yes. She thought he'd killed Rodrik, Smalljon, and her brothers and she thought him lost.