(A/N)- There are a few scenes of heavy violence and abuse in this story. If this is likely to have a negative effect on you please do not read this story. Also, Bran doesn't actually feature very heavily in this story.
"I've yielded Winterfell to Prince Theon." Bran's words broke your heart, ripping it from your chest as you stared on in disbelief. He looked terrified, sitting up there in front of all of these people.
"You all know me," Theon began before he was interrupted by one of the men in the crowd.
"Aye, we all know you for a steaming sack of shit," the man grumbled. You watched Theon's jaw tighten as he glared at the man.
"Hold your tongue," Bran spoke softly causing Theon to scoff slightly.
"Listen to your little Lord, he has more sense than you do," Theon growled at the man, taking a few steps in his direction. "My Father has donned the ancient crown of salt and rock. He has declared himself King of the IronIslands. He claims the North as well, by right of conquest." He paused in his speech, watching the crowd before turning to where you stood. "Maester Luwin, send a raven to Pyke informing my father of my victory here. And another to Deepwood Motte for my sister, inform her that she is to bring 500 men to Winterfell."
"You don't need to do this, Theon," you muttered, taking a few steps in his direction and gripping his hand tightly, drawing his eyes down to yours. "Please think about what you are doing; Lord Stark was good to you, good to both of us," you added. You knew that Bran was behind you, his eyes trained on you. Every single person in the courtyard thought you would turn against them, that you would follow the Iron Islanders rather than stand with the Starks. It was a safer option.
"It would be wise for you to go home Y/N. The Iron Islands will always accept you; you are a prisoner here, you always have been," he growled at you, his face closer to yours than you ever would have been comfortable with.
"You're a liar," you hissed back through your gritted teeth. "A liar and a traitor." You hardly noticed his movement but you felt it sure enough. You barely recognised how you came to end up on the floor, your eye aching and your head spinning. There was a moment of silence as you stared up at him, refusing to touch the tender spot where he had hit you. Instead, you pressed your hands into the mud, lifting yourself back to your feet before spitting in his direction. "You disgust me." You took a few steps backward before spinning on your heel and storming over to where your betrothed sat. It felt as though your eye socket was pulsating and you were sure there would be a dirty blue bruise there by the end of the day. But still, you kept your head high, glaring towards the man you had once considered family.
Theon didn't look angry anymore, more saddened, maybe even hurt by your actions. When you were children you had adored him, he was the only person in Winterfell who was like you. But you had both changed, though you doubted it was for the better. "You can't turn your back on the Iron Islands," he yelled in your direction. You felt Bran's hand come to grip your's, giving it a small squeeze but neither of you looked away from the man in front of you.
"I didn't," you hummed lightly, locking your eyes onto Theon's before continuing. "The Iron Island's turned their backs on me the moment they allowed me to be stolen from my crib without putting up a fight. The Stark's protected me, without them I would be dead." You paused as everyone fell silent. Theon's face looked pale and tired but you could tell he didn't want to lose this argument. "Theon, we aren't children anymore; you don't have to keep fighting to prove yourself to your father," you told him.
Theon turned to the man beside him with a nod. "Take her to her chambers. Do whatever you have to to shut her up," he grumbled before turning away.
"She is a child, Prince Theon, show mercy," Maester Luwin finally spoke, taking a small step towards yourself and Bran as if to protect you from the men coming in your direction.
"Fine," he started, staring in your direction with more hatred than you had ever felt before. "If she will take the knee and swear her loyalty to me and my family I will allow her to roam the castle as a free woman; if not, she will be my prisoner."
"Your family don't give two shits if you live or die. The Starks are your true family and I have already given them my loyalty." Theon's face turned a deep red as you watched one another, both refusing to be the first to look away.
"Take her to the dungeons. She can stay there until she changes her mind," Theon hissed through his teeth as one of his men grabbed you by the hair, dragging you away from Bran and out of the courtyard. You could hear the protests of Bran and the other men getting more distant as you were dropped to the stone floor, the door being slammed shut behind you.
*Time Skip*
Bran was dead. Your future husband was dead and you were alone in Winterfell with the Bolton's. You had only been released from the dungeons when they needed a storage place for a whimpering Theon Greyjoy. And then they had told you what he had done to Bran and Rickon and you turned to a mad woman. You had to admit that it felt good watching Ramsay torture Theon, though you were usually not an overly violent person. You spent a lot of your time just sitting in the dungeons waiting for Theon to wake up. When he would finally open his eyes you would just watch him beg for your forgiveness for what he had done. Claiming that it was all lies, that Bran and Rickon had run away, that they had left you alone to suffer whilst they escaped to safety.
"You turned on the Starks," you would mutter against his begging and crying watching as he fell silent at your words. "You helped to kill Robb. You murdered Bran and Rickon. You imprisoned me. You betrayed us all."
He would continue to whimper as you watched his body shake against the wooden cross he was being hung from. "Please."
"I gave you a chance to change your fate, Greyjoy, it's no use pleading for my help now," you would tell him, watching the tears fall from his eyes. He looked truly pathetic when he cried. "You will always disgust me."
There was something about the fact that you could break him down without ever having to physically harm him that brought you some sick pleasure. You would never have to dirty your own hands. Ramsay could cut and rip at his body all the time with little response, but Theon would be begging for you to stop, begging for you to forgive him for his wrong-doings. But you would never forgive him, how could you after all he had done to your family?
*Time Skip*
You had almost been broken by the time Sansa returned to Winterfell. You had spent so long clinging to the bitterness and anger that Theon had caused that you had forgotten how to be happy, forgotten that you even could be. Sansa, however, proved you wrong. As soon as she stepped through the archway and into the gardens your heart had jumped and you had launched yourself towards her, drawing her body close to your own.
"I missed you." The girl was different, she was taller, and prettier, and damaged. You both were. But she was here and that was all that mattered.
"I missed you too." Even Sansa's voice was different. It didn't hold the excitement it once had. When you were young her sing-song style of speaking had bothered you to no end but now something in you craved.
You held her at arms length for a moment before you spoke. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save Bran," you started, watching as she tensed a little at the mention of her brother. "Theon had me caged like a dog; there was nothing I could do."
"I understand." It was a simple statement but it allowed you to calm yourself. You had begun to blame yourself little by little as Theon was stripped of his identity, turning him to Reek. Could someone so feeble-minded truly be responsible for their own actions? Or was it your fault for not stopping him?
"I loved him; I still do," you told her watching as she nodded.
"I know," Sansa responded quickly before pulling away from you. "I'm tired. I'm going to go and find my chambers."
"Rest well, Lady Stark," you spoke after her as she walked away from you. For a moment you thought she hadn't heard you, there was hardly even a hesitation in her step, but once she reached the arch that left the gardens her shoulders began to shake as she cried. It hadn't been fair to call her what had been her Mother's name, but it was her title now and she would have to learn to live with it.
*Time Skip*
Your pleasant times with Ramsay Bolton had come to an end, and your want to torture Theon had begun to fade from you as you grew to hate the bastard. You would listen tentatively for Sansa's chamber door to swing back open, hearing her sobs grow as his footsteps echoed down the halls and away from her. You would pull your body from the bed and creep out of your own chambers, knocking lightly on her door before going inside and climbing quickly into her bed, pulling her close to you and sheltering her from the world outside. You had never known a lord to treat his wife in such a way, but you had lived a rather sheltered life, only truly knowing Lord and Lady Stark when you were a child. So you would cradle Sansa as she sobbed, her entire body shaking against you.
"I will get you away from him," you whispered softly to her, pressing your lips to her head as she stilled a little in your arms. "I won't let him keep doing this," you continued, though it was more of a promise to yourself than it was to Sansa.
The next morning you crept from Sansa's chambers before the rest of the castle woke, scurrying back to your own bed before the Lady's maids could notice your absence. You had been doing it for almost a full moon now and had become quite adept at sneaking through Winterfell completely unnoticed. That afternoon you returned to the kennels the way you had in the past, acting as though you had regained your hunger for revenge against Theon.
Theon whimpered as you pushed open the gate that held him in, shrinking away from your form and shuffling across the floor to the far corner. "Theon," you began but he cut you off.
"No, not Theon, Reek."
"Theon, snap out of it," you told him more softly as you came to kneel in front of his shaking body. "We need Theon, Reek is of no help to us anymore."
"Not Reek?" Theon began to speak but you help up and hand to silence him.
"I need you to help Sansa get out of Winterfell and to Castle Black. Can you do that for me?" you asked him, your voice still low, almost silent among the growls of Ramsay's hounds. Theon nodded lightly and you stood up, "Do that and all will be forgiven," you told him before turning to leave.
"You'll stay?" he asked, halting you on the spot.
"Perhaps if I am here he will be distracted. It could buy you both some time."
"He'll kill you," Theon told you. You knew he was right but you had no other choice. This could keep Sansa alive, and after all her family had done you couldn't allow anything more to happen to her.
"That's a risk I'm willing to take; have her gone by sunrise tomorrow," you answered before hurrying from the kennels and out into the courtyard.
You were almost back into the castle when you heard his voice, causing you to still slightly. "What were you doing out here so late?" Ramsay asked you, taking the few steps to come around in front of you.
"I was just seeing if Reek remembered me," you chuckled lightly, giving him a sweet smile. "He does; you should have seen the look on his face."
Ramsay's eyes narrowed at you for a moment before he returned your smile. "Good. A creature such as Reek should be happy to ever be in the company of someone as beautiful as yourself."
"Thank you, My Lord." You gave him a short nod before moving past him towards your chambers.
*Time Skip*
"You insolent whore," Ramsay spat, gripping your head by your hair and pulling to make you look up at his reddening face. "Where is my wife?" he continued through his gritted teeth. Your eyes refused to leave his as he attempted to threaten you.
"I don't know," you told him, your voice as soft and gentle as it would be if you were speaking with a child.
"Don't lie to me," he yelled, bringing his hand down to your face as hard as he could, forcing your face to turn away from him. You could taste the blood on your tongue as it an across your teeth, checking that they were all still in place. "Where is my wife?" he asked again, his voice lowering to a growl as he turned your head back to face him.
You spat out the mixture of blood as saliva from your mouth before locking your eyes with his again. "I. Don't. Know," you told him softly, pausing between each word and seeing his teeth bared as he snarled at you, holding out a hand to his guard.
You could see the glint on the knife as it was placed into Ramsay's hand. You flinched away as he moved it towards you, but the slicing pain never came. Instead, he began hacking at your hair, ripping it away from your scalp as he cut it into jagged points. Once he had finished he threw the knife away, letting it clatter across the floor before hastily untying you from the chair you had been attached to previously. Once he had you on your feet he gripped the front of your dress and tore it apart, leaving you in your under clothes. With a grip on what was left of your hair, he dragged you from the dungeons and through the halls.
Ramsay finally released you when you had reached the courtyard, allowing you to stumble forward into the dirt, knocking the air out of your chest. "Get up," he growled in your direction, watching as you got back on your feet. The air of Winterfell was biting your skin, each icy breeze feeling like a thousand needles being pressed into your skin. Ramsay gave you a rough shove, pushing you towards a post that usually kept horses from bolting. "Tie her," he demanded of the guard who had followed you both outside silently.
"Yes M'Lord," the man murmured, taking a step towards you and gripping your wrists, binding them to the post before taking a step away again.
"Confess." Ramsay's voice was followed by a crack, a sound so loud and deep that it resembled thunder. Then you felt the pain sear across your back. "Where is my wife?" Ramsay demanded again. The sound echoed around the courtyard again and you let out a cry of pain as his weapon clawed its way down your spine.
You began to mumble under your breath, not quite loud enough for Ramsay to hear. Within seconds he was beside you again, listening to your words. "I don't know," you told him, your voice shaking and broken.
"I don't believe you," he growled through bared teeth, stalking away from you again. Soon you were met with the cracking sound again, and then the pain.
Your flogging seemed to go on for hours, strike after strike tearing into your skin and leaving you a trembling mess. You had dropped to your knees soon after the fifth hit, but now you had lost count.
"She's going North," you cried out after a final cracking sound. Each time your body shook with your sobs your back would weep blood, allowing it to soak into the few bits of clothing you were still wearing.
"This is a lesson for all of you; treachery will not be tolerated." You hadn't noticed the people around you before, too focused on keeping your secret, too caught up in your pain. You heard Ramsay's footsteps leaving the courtyard and the murmuring of the common people overran you.
"M'Lady, we have to get you to a Maester," one lady spoke up, untangling the knots at your wrist and keeping you standing with the help of a round man.
"He'll kill you if he knows you helped me," you muttered, your brain spinning as the pain continued to spread throughout your body, tearing through you.
"You'll die if we don't." They had managed to balance you precariously on a stool that had previously been used for milking the cows.
"Let me die," you moaned, low in your throat, tears running down your face. "Please just let me die," you said louder, gripping the woman's arm in your hand. If she had wanted to she could have pulled out of your hold with relative ease but instead, she covered your hand with hers.
"Lord Stark promised to protect you, he would not be pleased to know his people had abandoned you in your time of need." Her hand ran over your matted mess of hair, soothing you slightly as the man fetched some alcohol to clean the wound that littered your back.
"Lord Stark is dead," you muttered against her softly.
"And we must continue his legacy." Your mind fell apart when the alcohol soaked cloth touched your back, the pain overthrowing you and causing you to fall into a deep sleep.
*Time Skip*
It had taken months for you to heal enough to be allowed to leave your bed, though you were still confined to your chambers for fear that you would overexert yourself. You were doomed to watch on from a distance as Ramsay murdered Rickon, a boy you had already believed to be dead. Once you saw the second rush of Stark soldiers and you realised that the almost certain demise of Ramsay was imminent, you forced yourself out of your chambers still dressed in only a nightgown, making your way down to the courtyard where you were met by silence.
Before you was Jon Snow, a man you hadn't seen for years, someone you thought you would never see again, and within seconds you had burst into tears. "Jon," you whimpered, causing him to look up from his spot atop Ramsay. His fists were bloodied and his tunic covered in thick mud but once he was on his feet you couldn't stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, wincing when he squeezed you tightly and letting out a hiss of pain.
"What did he do to you?" His voice was deeper than before he had left.
"Not here," you answered simply before pulling away and giving him a weak smile. "Where is your sister?"
"She shouldn't be far behind us."
"And is it true?" you asked, watching as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Bran could still be alive somewhere?"
"I don't know (Y/N)." His hand came to rest on your shoulder, bringing you into another, more gentle, hug. "You'll freeze out here, come inside," he spoke softly in your ear, turning you around to send you towards the castle only to hesitate with his hand on your bare shoulder, feeling the striped scars that coated your back. You tensed when you realised your mistake.
"We'll talk inside," you told him firmly before walking quickly through the doors and into the halls of Winterfell.
"He did that to you?" You nodded quickly, pushing open the door to the great hall only enough for the two of you to squeeze through. "Why?"
"I betrayed him," you spoke softly, finally turning to look at his saddened expression again. "I helped Sansa and Theon leave Winterfell," you continued and he nodded slightly.
"I should have come as soon as I heard of Theon's return," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his beard in frustration.
"You couldn't have known, Jon."
"I could have stopped this happening to you. I could have stopped him hurting Sansa."
"He could have killed you as soon as you marched through the gates," you told him softly. "He had an army and you are one man, there is nothing you could have done."
"None of this matters. I should've been here to protect you." Jon was used to being disappointed in himself, even though he never truly had a choice. He had done it plenty when you were children.
You sighed softly before moving closer to him and pulling him into a hug. "I know you feel guilty but you didn't do this to us; it's not your fault."
*Time Skip*
You were silent as you stared at the man in front of you. You hadn't seen each other for so long that he was almost unrecognisable. Bran had finally come home. There were tears running down your cheeks as you watched him from a distance. For so long you had assumed he was dead and now here he was sitting before you whilst his sisters greeted him.
"I thought you were dead," you mumbled, not able to fully speak as you stared at him in confusion. Suddenly the floodgates seemed to open and you began to sob loudly. "You left me," you continued. "You left me without telling me you were going." You hadn't realised that you were angry until the words tumbled out of your mouth. But Bran had abandoned you to your imprisonment without saying a word.
"Hello (Y/N)," Bran spoke, his voice was monotone and deeper than it had once been. It was almost as though all of the emotion had been taken from him and instead he was just the shell of the boy you had once loved.
"Hello? That's all you have to say?" you spat at him, continuously shaking your head as you tried to fight back the tears. "You've been missing for years and all you can say is 'Hello'?"
"You're angry."
"Of course I'm fucking angry. You left me here alone with Theon Greyjoy." There was a venom in your voice the caused Sansa to hesitate as she took a step towards you.
"Come inside. This isn't the place or time for this conversation," Sansa told you, placing her hand on your shoulder and steering you towards the door.
"What's wrong with him?" you murmured to her as she walked beside you, Bran a few feet behind being helped along by Arya and his new friend Meera.
"I don't know, but something has changed in him," she told you gently, linking her arm with yours and pulling you close to her. "Hopefully he will come back now that he is here."
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