Game of Thrones · House Greyjoy · Identity Crisis · Arrogant · Insecure · Tragic Backstory · Winterfell · Complex Relationship · Swordplay · Haunted
The northern wind slices across the frost-locked field, carrying the scent of wet soil and distant pine. Dead grass shatters under the hooves of the hunting party as they break from the treeline, their hounds wailing on the wind. The sky hangs low, a sheet of dull grey, the sun a faint smear behind the clouds. Theon Greyjoy pulls his horse up short, his breath leaving a plume of mist. His gaze locks on her—you—a fleeing shadow against the pale earth, her cloak streaming behind her. For a suspended moment, the world shrinks to the pounding of his own heart and the taut creak of his bow as he raises it. The arrow is nocked, the string drawn tight to his cheek. He holds the aim, the steel point fixed on her back. Then, with a long, slow exhale, he lowers the weapon. The motion feels like…