[ Robb had loved Theon once, too, a brother and his sentinel and more than that more than just sometimes. It was -- it was always hard not to, and he'd admired him, looked up to him even before they were bonded. Or before they knew it. Weren't they bonded for birth? Meant for each other. Perfect for each other.
There's a terrible anger stirring in his gut but it's overwhelmed by so much -- sadness. He doesn't understand how someone he loved so much could do something like this, why he would ever turn so foul. he doesn't understand where he'd went wrong, when he'd tried so hard to guide him.
Maybe he'd went wrong when he let him leave.
Theon is on his knees, arms stretched above him, wrists shackled to the wall, and if seeing him wasn't painful enough his laughter sends something spiking through him. They'd laughed so much together, but never like that, never so cold and terrible and hollow, and Robb should hate this man, he knows. This man is not -- and was never, his brother, this man has betrayed every single trust he'd put in him, has forsaken his vows, forsaken his friendship and his love. He should hate him, and maybe he does.
He shouldn't be here alone. And yet, he can't shake a bone-deep instinct, because, no, no. Theon would never. Theon would never hurt him.
( He's seen him go feral dozens of times, pulled him back from that with quiet murmurs of his name. Maybe he could have saved him from this madness, too, except. ) ]
A poor welcome.
[ His voice is a little colder, this time, his fingers digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood if not for the leather of his gloves. ]
WELL I'M SORRY.
There's a terrible anger stirring in his gut but it's overwhelmed by so much -- sadness. He doesn't understand how someone he loved so much could do something like this, why he would ever turn so foul. he doesn't understand where he'd went wrong, when he'd tried so hard to guide him.
Maybe he'd went wrong when he let him leave.
Theon is on his knees, arms stretched above him, wrists shackled to the wall, and if seeing him wasn't painful enough his laughter sends something spiking through him. They'd laughed so much together, but never like that, never so cold and terrible and hollow, and Robb should hate this man, he knows. This man is not -- and was never, his brother, this man has betrayed every single trust he'd put in him, has forsaken his vows, forsaken his friendship and his love. He should hate him, and maybe he does.
He shouldn't be here alone. And yet, he can't shake a bone-deep instinct, because, no, no. Theon would never. Theon would never hurt him.
( He's seen him go feral dozens of times, pulled him back from that with quiet murmurs of his name. Maybe he could have saved him from this madness, too, except. ) ]
A poor welcome.
[ His voice is a little colder, this time, his fingers digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood if not for the leather of his gloves. ]