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Salting the Wound

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Theon stood behind the high chair his father called a throne when only his cronies were around to hear him. He would have liked better to not be around at all to see his sister handed off to the wolves but disappearing was not an option. Instead he faded into the background, present in name and body while his head wandered towards more amusing thoughts. The wench from the tavern was always good for a distraction when she wasn’t whispering in his ear for want of being his salt wife.

He fought against the urge to finger the heavy chain around his neck. The man it had once belonged to no longer had the means to wear it thanks to Theon and his bow. It was the first bit of finery he had claimed for himself and he found himself wearing it most often during times he needed reminding of who and, more importantly, what he was.

The heavy doors were opened and Theon’s eyes snapped forward. They came in as a pack, the Northmen who had come to claim his sister. The man at the front was Lord Eddard Stark, a warrior and a coward, if Theon’s father were to be believed. When the Iron Islands had risen from the sea in an effort to set themselves apart from the Seven Kingdoms it was Stark who had knocked them down. He hadn’t the desire to take the throne for himself, as any Ironborn would. Instead he had treatied, bargaining with Theon’s father to allow him to remain alive in exchange for his daughter as Stark’s ward.

Theon was too young to understand the implications of such an act. Ward meant hostage in the cold lands of the North. And now he came to make good the second part of the treaty.

Asha had returned to the Islands one week prior. She had returned as a shadow of herself, coy and kind and lacking the fire that had once left Theon in awe. She had returned betrothed to Stark’s eldest, wanting only to please him and be wed and bed by the wolf if her own words were to be trusted.

Theon looked over at her and saw the way her eyes locked at the tall fiery haired man standing just behind Lord Stark. There was something in her eyes that went against the gentleness she had been displaying that week but it disappeared quickly when she realized she was being watched.

“Perhaps she is not so tamed,” Theon thought to himself. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a mocking thing that only increased in sureness when Stark the younger glanced his way. The man’s blue eyes remained on Theon as their fathers began to speak.

“Lord Stark,” Theon’s father said, gravel in his voice, “Again you are in my hall. The last time it was to have my daughter as a ward so that I might behave. Now you come to claim her for your son with the same intent.”

“I do,” Stark said with a nod. “Your daughter has remained safe within the walls of Winterfell. That will remain so…”

“So long as we acquiesce and kow before you.” Balon stood and Theon’s hand went to rest on the hilt of his sword just as the wolf’s men did the same.

“Not me, my lord.” Lord Stark stood strong before Balon’s fury. “Robert is your lord and King. I am only a man.”

“A man who would steal away my only daughter,” Balon growled.

“Would you rather I took your son?” Stark nodded towards Theon and the younger Greyjoy felt his anger grow at the man’s open taunting of Balon’s loss. Once there had been three boys birthed by the kraken. Now only Theon remained.

It was Asha who broke through the thick tension.

“Father,” she spoke firmly, “would you go back upon your word and honor to deny Lord Stark?” Balon looked over at her with crossness deepening the lines between his eyes.

“Who are you to speak at such times?” he responded in a harsh tone. Asha glanced up at Theon before stepping forward to speak softly in their father’s ear. His face softened somewhat before a cruel smile crept upon his lips.

“My apologies,” he said finally as Asha drew back. He turned towards the men of Winterfell and nodded at them benignly. “I am an old man and have a loose grip upon my temper.”

“I have daughters as well, my lord,” Stark replied. “I know well the desire to protect them.”

Balon smiled before nodding towards the custodians of his house.

“Take Lord Stark and his men to their quarters so that they might rest before this evenings feast.” With that he swept out of the room, Asha and his councilors in his wake. Theon hesitated for a moment, eyes going again to the eldest of the Stark boys. A red eyebrow arched under his gaze and Theon smirked in return before following his father out of the hall.

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He found Robb Stark in the stables that evening, slipping away from his father’s close eye midway through yet another tedious councilor meeting. The redhead was sat on a bale of hay, absently twirling his sword on its point in the dirt.

“The wolf who would tame a kraken.” Theon spoke brashly as he stepped out of the shadows. Robb only glanced up at him with feigned disinterest. “You’d do better taming the north winds you people pray to.”

“I have no intention of taming anything, Greyjoy.” The redhead sighed before looking back down at his sword.

“You should,” Theon continued, stepping closer. “I know my dear sister even after so long. Tame her or find her cold fingers around your neck.”

“You think so lowly of your own blood?” Robb asked. He looked up at Theon again and the brunet saw something glint in his eyes despite the shadows.

“No,” he replied, “I think so highly.” He stopped just in front of Robb. “She’ll have you whispering sweetly in her ear even as she threads a knife between your ribs.”

“Then you think so low of me as to assume I don’t already know what sort of person she is.” Robb stood up slowly, sheathing his sword as he did so. Straightening up, he was nose to nose with Theon. “I am not such a fool as to believe a lifetime within Winterfell’s walls would remove the salt water from any Greyjoy’s veins. And neither is my Lord Father.”

“Then what is the purpose of this marriage?” Theon met Robb’s cold stare with a sneer. “You gain nothing from it.”

“Nothing save a tie to the Seastone Chair.” Robb’s grin was manic in the shadowy light as he watched the realization cross Theon’s face.

“You?” Theon huffed out a broken laugh. “You think you could rule the Ironborn if I fell?” He stepped in closer so that his breath ghosted over the other man’s lips. “You haven’t the balls.”

Robb moved quickly, using surprise to overcome Theon’s years of training to have the other man pressed face first into the stable wall before either could take a breath. He twisted one arm behind his back and leaned into the shorter man’s body to whisper hotly in his ear.

“Haven’t the balls? Is that what you said?” He pressed in harder, pushing Theon into the damp wood. “If I’ve the balls to bed your bitch of a sister then I think I can manage bringing the rest of you to heel.”

“Speaking of bitch sisters,” Theon taunted the other man, “How are yours? I hear one’s quite pretty.”

Robb growled, reaching up with one hand to grab onto Theon’s hair and pull his head back at a harsh angle.

“You will not speak of my sisters. You will not even think of them.”

“Are you thinking of mine right now, Stark?” Theon hissed as Robb tightened his hold and pressed back against the other man as much as he could, feeling a hardness beneath the layers of cloth between them. Robb let go suddenly, stepping back and causing Theon to stumble slightly before finding his footing. The brunet turned around and found the other man staring at him, panting breaths fogging in the cool sea air.

“You should leave,” Robb said in a rough voice. Theon smirked at him, cocking his head slightly.

“This is my stable. I comefill any desires I may have?” Robb took a step forward, moving quickly back into Theon’s personal space. Theon only smiled up at the other man as he allowed himself be crowded against the wall once more. He tilted his head to the side slightly as Robb leaned into him again. His usual smirk stretched into a gasp when Robb’s hand fell to his crotch and he could feel himself filling beneath the other man’s grip.

“You think I would bend before you?” Robb whispered into his ear, hot breath licking over it as his hand moved over his cock. “You think a Stark of Winterfell would debase himself enough to fall for taunting words?”

“You wouldn’t necessarily have to bend over,” Theon said with a groan, Robb’s hand never stilling its movement over him. He turned his head to better see the other man’s face.

“No,” Robb shook his head, “You’d be pleased enough to simply have me on my knees before you, mouth wrapped around your cock.” The way the redhead’s mouth wrapped around the word made Theon shudder, his breath speeding up as Robb’s hand tightened more around him.

Theon shifted against Robb, pressing a thigh forward into the other man and flashing his teeth when he felt Robb’s cock rub along it. Robb responded by reaching up and twisting his fingers in Theon’s hair, pulling his head back harshly against the wall.

“Is that what you want, Greyjoy?” Robb growled against his skin, thrusting into the other man’s thigh even as his hand continued working Theon’s cock through his heavy wool trousers. “You want to see the North bow before you… suck you down… beg for you…”

The brunet shuddered under the weight of the other man. Robb’s fingers were tight around his length and his words tore through him and left his heart thudding against his chest. Teeth bit at his jaw and the sharp bruising pain was enough to tip him into oblivion. He could feel Robb grin against his skin even as he pulsed in the man’s hand.

“I want you to remember this moment,” Robb said as he continued working Theon’s cock to the point of overstimulation at which point he let go and took a step backwards, leaving Theon on legs that would no longer support him. “Here, in a dirty stable, Robb Stark brought you to your knees. I shall marry your sister,” Robb gripped Theon’s hair once more and pulled his head back so that the man kneeling before him met his gaze, “and should the Ironborn ever breathe a word of war, I will do so again.”

With that he walked away, leaving Theon in the dirt, want, anger, and shame warring inside him.