theon

Theon was staggering by the time he reached the foot of the stair. He slung the girl over his shoulder and began to climb.

Theon did not recognize the voice. Most of the man's features were covered by the scarf about his face. Only his eyes could be seen.

Theon drained the last dregs of his ale and rose reluctantly to his feet.

It was easy to get lost in that frozen labyrinth, but Theon Greyjoy knew every twist and turning.

Theon broke his own fast with a tankard of dark ale, cloudy with yeast and thick enough to chew on.

He turned his head, his pale cold eyes searching the hall until they found the bard Abel beside Theon.

Theon glanced at Squirrel. They are almost of a size. It might work. "And how does Squirrel get out? "

Theon wondered if he would ever see the Drowned God's watery halls, or if his ghost would linger here at Winterfell.

Squirrel slipped away, soft-footed as she always was. Rowan walked Theon from the hall.

Yes, he meant to say. Instead he heard himself reply, "Theon Greyjoy. I . . . I have brought some women for you. "

For a moment Theon felt almost giddy. They never looked. They never saw. We walked the girl right by them!

Theon could not bring himself to call her Arya and dare not call her Jeyne.

He might well be a broken thing, but Theon still wore a dagger.

It came up near Greyjoy's feet. Theon was a lean, dark youth of nineteen who found everything amusing.

But Alyn unlocked the door to the bedchamber, and Theon waved the women through.

"The Prince of Stink is come for some hot water, " one guard announced when Theon and his serving girls appeared before him.

And as their lips touched, her blade slid through the meat of his neck, just below the ear. Theon saw the man's eyes widen.

"It's cold, " Jeyne Poole whimpered as she stumbled along at Theon's side.

On the inner wall the crossbow man would be reloading, Theon knew.

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He is Theon already, he has more or less regained his consciousness, yet he is horrified by the mere thought of being naked.

The furs stirred. An eye peered out, shining with tears. Dark, too dark. A brown eye. "Theon? "

Rowan grasped Theon's arm. "The bath. It must be now. "

Theon stopped so suddenly that Willow almost plowed into his back.

Theon could feel an itching in his missing fingers.

"There are more guards upstairs atm'lord's bedchamber, " Theon warned her.

Within, Theon grabbed a passing pot boy by the arm.

"I will be right beside you, " Theon promised as Squirrel slipped into Lady Arya's bed and pulled the blanket up.

Even the mud was icing up about the edges, Theon saw.

With Rowan's help, Theon got Jeyne Poole into Squirrel's clothes.

On Sunday's Game of Thrones, poor Theon Greyjoy found himself not only humbled, but also humiliated in a really icky way.

Theon grabbed Jeyne about the waist and jumped.

His mood is foul this morning. Theon could tell.