OPEN POST (JANUARY 2013)

[teamkill]

1. give me a prompt (image, song, quote, poem, et cetera) and request a character in the subject line 2. i'll tag witchu 3. this is a no pressure funsies thing so i'll tag when i feel like it 4. this post is open to literally everyone idc if you know me or not 5. I CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DIRTY TAGS

Comments

theon for that one au

[kingsguard]

how can you say your truth is better than ours?
shoulder to shoulder now brother, we carry no arms
the blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home
if only i had a bigger enemy than my apathy i could have won

but you rip it from my hands and you swear it's all gone
and you rip out all i have just to say you've won

well now you've won.

I GAVE YOU ALL - MUMFORD & SONS

[seamonster]

( a very long time ago, balon greyjoy had three sons, but then war came to the iron islands and he was left with none.

theon would have been a good boy, once, a good son and a good heir, a man to make his father proud. maybe—maybe he'd still be all of those things now, but the truth of the matter is that everything theon has learned in his life he learned not from balon greyjoy or from his own (dead) brothers, but from the starks and from jaime lannister, the kingslayer.

(who was it, after all, who gave him his very first bow? jaime had pushed the heartwood shortbow into his tiny, childish hands, and theon had looked up to him with bright eyes and a flushed face and smiled and smiled and smiled and—)

jaime had been a withering, wistful memory whom theon hadn't thought often of during his years in winterfell, in the north, and then one day the whole of the fucking south came to the north with their banners streaming and their faces pink and tanned from the glowing southern sun. the south came to the north, and jaime rode with them, tall and handsome, a knight gleaming in his kingsguard's armor. he looked right at theon when he passed by, staring at him when eddard stark greeted robert baratheon and staring at him from across the feasting hall, with theon never once meeting his eye.

when theon wakes the next morning, he finds jaime fast asleep on the floor next to his bed with his head tipped back against his mattress. theon's head is heavy, his tongue thick and dry from too much wine, and he reaches out with bleary eyes to lightly touch jaime's temple, his fingers feathering through his hair.

he pulls his hand away and jolts upright when he realizes he isn't dreaming, when jaime doesn't shimmer and fade away like the mirage he's always been in theon's sleep. )

[kingsguard]

[ Jaime dreams of Pyke.

It's a blur of all his memories, stepping through them in the strange daze of a dream, his first days there when he'd been young and afraid and the Ironborn had looked on him with bitter contempt. Father had sent him to ward here for a reason, but oh at that age it was hard not to feel abandoned and so terribly alone, curling up in his cold bed each night thinking of Cersei and Tyrion. And years later, when he'd started to learn how to make his way on Pyke, when Balon Greyjoy's third son was about the age where he could learn to wield a sword but he just wasn't as good as his brothers ( or even his sister ) and Balon looked on him a quiet but obvious displeasure.

Jaime had taught him how to wield a sword. And young Theon Greyjoy had loved him like a brother, so he loved him like a brother, too. It was years later when Jaime gave him a bow ( bought with gold rather than iron but it'd be their little secret, he'd told him ), when Theon's face had lit up with joy and he'd wrapped his arms around his middle and told him he loved him, that he'd always loved him for this. He took to the bow so much easier than he'd taken to a sword, always working to make his father proud, to make Jaime proud.

Balon still never paid him much mind, but Jaime did. And the years passed further still, the rebellion raging and Theon's blood brothers dead, Theon being sent to North while Jaime was to return home to the Rock, and he promised, he promised he'd come for him. And he has. It's only taken him -- nine years, nine long years in which he's become a knight and a kingsguard and a kingslayer.

He wakes the moment he feels something, someone's touch against his temple, achingly comforting and familiar yet so foreign at the same time. He knows it's Theon, but he's afraid to move, like he's dreaming this, too, afraid that Theon would pull away again if he saw him stir, but his heart's in his throat as those fingers ghost through his hair.

Theon pulls away suddenly, and Jaime moves before he can stop himself, catching his wrist effortlessly without even opening his eyes. There's a pause there that feels like it lasts for longer than it really does, a moment when Jaime holds his breath -- and he tips his head back slightly, opening his eyes and looking up at Theon. ]

Theon.

[ Good morning. :( He hasn't left, since the night before. ]