[ Theon is all too familiar to stasis. Call him sentimental, though he’ll never own up to it. He visits those who he should visit, such as his sister and Robb, and those who he shouldn’t visit, whose names are better left unmentioned. A familiar voice startles him as he makes his rounds today. ]
Sansa.
[ He won’t be as she remembers, not entirely. His hair is as white as snow, his teeth broken into a horrifying array of jagged splinters, and he’s missing just a few more fingers.
She isn’t exactly as he recalls either. It hadn’t been long ago that they both came to an understanding with one another. This Theon may not have helped her to escape Ramsay, but some man named Theon Greyjoy had. It’s something he’s forced himself to accept. Sansa had been bolder during those conversations, less of the naive child Theon recalled from Winterfell, perhaps even a touch too clever. Right now, she’s frightened and seems all the younger for it.
I don’t want to do this again, he thinks, fearing that all that work has been undone, fearing that he may be forced to suffer the same old accusations again. Walk away. She’s unlikely to recognize you. No one ever does.
But he doesn’t walk away. He never can anymore. Instead, he keeps his distance, uncertainly, and shakes his head. ]
You don’t want to go back.
[ He doesn't know exactly what's happening, but there's no one left back there for her to return to. ]
1
Sansa.
[ He won’t be as she remembers, not entirely. His hair is as white as snow, his teeth broken into a horrifying array of jagged splinters, and he’s missing just a few more fingers.
She isn’t exactly as he recalls either. It hadn’t been long ago that they both came to an understanding with one another. This Theon may not have helped her to escape Ramsay, but some man named Theon Greyjoy had. It’s something he’s forced himself to accept. Sansa had been bolder during those conversations, less of the naive child Theon recalled from Winterfell, perhaps even a touch too clever. Right now, she’s frightened and seems all the younger for it.
I don’t want to do this again, he thinks, fearing that all that work has been undone, fearing that he may be forced to suffer the same old accusations again. Walk away. She’s unlikely to recognize you. No one ever does.
But he doesn’t walk away. He never can anymore. Instead, he keeps his distance, uncertainly, and shakes his head. ]
You don’t want to go back.
[ He doesn't know exactly what's happening, but there's no one left back there for her to return to. ]