Archive of Our Own

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Robb

Robb couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing in the middle of the Great Salon of Winterfell was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Problem was that, according to Jon and his father, this person wasn’t actually a woman. It was Theon Greyjoy.

All eyes were on him/her. The entire Stark family, including Jon, was there, just staring at this strange image, some of them ogling open mouthed. Robb decided that no matter what they said, this was a woman, period. So, she had long and wavy hair that reached her hips. The color was faded brown, exactly the same shade as Theon’s, Robb noted. Her eyes, big and unblinking, were also of the same tone.

However, he was going to need more than that to believe that his friend had become… this. Ok, so she was also wearing Theon’s clothes. He would have recognized that fancy shirt anywhere. So what? Maybe she was one of Theon’s lovers, spent the night with him and decide to use his vestments.

His lord father cleared his throat and the sound startled him, the salon was so silent. His mother was right next to him and she looked as skeptical as he felt.

-Ned… what you’re saying cannot be true…

-I saw it with my own eyes, Cat -his voice sounded rough and tired.

-I saw it too -apparently, Jon felt like he had to support his father. Lady Catelyn sent him a glare that clearly said what she thought about his opinion.

Jon ignored her completely, he was too busy staring at the long-haired beauty decorating the room.

-It’s me -she said, voice soft but firm-. I’m Theon… that… that witch did this to me.

And, for more emphasis, she grabbed her breasts with her hands. Her bosom was quite big, Robb also noted, blushing a little bit.

Maester Luwin, who was standing close to Lord Stark took a step closer to the girl who was supposed to be the Ironborn. He regarded her carefully, taking into every detail, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. She looked like she wanted to run away and hide somewhere, not that Maester Luwin was particularly intimidating with his slouched posture and trembling hands.

-I have never seen something like this -he said, without stopping his scrutiny-. But… I did hear stories of old maesters… I always thought they were just that… stories…

-Is there a way… to fix it? -lord Stark took a step closer too.

Her eyes were suddenly full of hope, looking to the maester, but he just shook his head.

-I have no idea, my lord. But I will investigate about it, of course. Did you say that he drank some potion?

-Yes! -the girl screamed-. She gave it to me! That wench… she offered me the drink…

Despite all the evidence displaying in front of him, Robb was convinced that this was some kind of joke. Theon Greyjoy was turned into a woman? A tall, beautiful maiden with silken skin and perfect breasts? Gods forbid, no. Just, no.

Then, suddenly, her blue eyes were on him and she looked like she knew exactly what he was thinking. And, maybe, just maybe, his eyes were lingering a bit too much on her cleavage.

Her arrogant smirk was definitely Theon’s.

-What are you looking at, Robb? I’m not gonna let you fuck me.

Yes, definitely Theon.

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Jon

The sudden sound of slapping skin startled Jon. It took him a second to realize that Lady Catelyn had smacked Theon, hard. He could see a little cut on her left cheek, a shallow line of blood sliding down her face, probably product of one of her rings.

“Don’t talk to my son like that. You need to learn your place.”

Jon wasn’t expecting that reaction. Theon certainly wasn’t, her eyes were wide while staring at Lady Stark’s face, like she couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

“I’m sorry, my lady”, she said in a whisper.

“Go to your room”, said Lord Stark. “Catelyn, please find some appropriate clothes for…for her to wear.”

Lady Stark looked stunned and didn’t move until her husband shook her shoulder slightly. Jon didn’t know why she was so surprised, it was Theon after all. Of course he would say something nasty. Perhaps she was just shocked over the weird circumstances that they were in. After her husband touched her, she seemed to come back to reality and started to walk towards the stairs, Theon following her in silence. Her head was bowed down so the long curtain of brown hair covered part of her face, but Jon managed to get a glimpse. She was blushing furiously. Probably, it wasn’t the first time the Starks had to apply discipline to try to correct Theon’s behavior, yet it was the only time it happened in front of everyone.

Jon had experienced a lot of strange things in his young life, but seeing a man turning into a woman… that was undoubtedly the weirdest and creepiest thing he had ever seen. He was still trying to convince himself that it was real, not a dream or hallucination. Theon had started screaming in excruciating pain while his body had gradually changed, crawling across the floor in desperation.

Jon could hear the voice of his father giving instructions, something about thinking of a proper explanation for the presence of this new person in Winterfell, about a new name… but it sounded like Lord Stark was talking to himself, walking slowly while his eyes were focused on the floor rather than on anyone else.

“No one must know about this, understood?”, he said, stopping his pacing abruptly.

“Father, you said that you saw it…”, Arya intervened. “How was it? Did you see the witch?”. Her eyes were full of curiosity and she was literally bouncing on her feet excited about the development of the affairs at hand.

“Not now, Arya. Go to your room, all of you. Jon, you stay”.

Nobody dared to contradict the stern order, his voice resonated in the huge room. While the sounds of hurried steps were slowly vanishing in the distance, Lord Stark turned to look into Jon’s eyes.

“Do you remember the face of the girl who gave him the drink?”

“I do”, Jon replied, trying to recall every detail of what had happened a few hours ago.

Lord Stark had been on a hunt with Robb, Ser Rodrik and some other men from his guard. He was also invited to join them, but preferred to stay in the castle instead. He just didn’t feel like going out searching for things to kill. However, he was surprised when he heard that Greyjoy had also declined the invitation.

“Sorry, Robb. I have better things to do”, he said with a lopsided smile.

“Isn’t it a little bit early to go to the brothel?”, Robb seemed to be a bit confused.

“I didn’t know that there was a specific time you preferred, for me, anytime is fine”.

After that, his half-brother stomped out of the room without a word.

Theon was still smiling when Jon started walking towards the door. He didn’t want to share space with a cocky, arrogant and pretentious Ironborn whose favorite sport besides whoring and archery was calling Jon a bastard.

“Snow, why don’t you come with me? It will be fun, I promise”.

In normal circumstances, Jon would just ignore him and walk out of the door. But, today he was feeling a little bit more curious about all the talking concerning girls and sex with which Theon used to brag about all the time.

So, he accepted the offer and went with Theon to the brothel. Sooner than expected, he was already regretting his decision. He felt completely out of place, the smiles of the girls, the winks directed at him. Men laughing loudly while drinking non-stop, and Greyjoy shamelessly touching a woman who was squirming on his lap. She was practically naked, long black hair falling down her back and pert breasts on display which were being roughly squeezed by his hands.

Jon had no idea of what to do with his own hands, a small part of him wanted to touch those nice breasts too. Yes, he was kind of turned on by the enticing view, there was no use denying it. A pair of blue eyes were suddenly on him, and he tightened his grip on the cup, suspecting what was coming next.

“Would you like to join us, Snow? Or you’re happy with just staring and pouting?”

Jon felt the heat on his face and knew he was blushing like a green boy. He also knew that Theon was just messing with him and not actually offering anything, but at that moment he wished he was brave enough to join them so that he could erase that stupid confident smirk off Theon’s face.

Then, a lass came to refill the Ironborn’s cup. Jon extended his arm with the almost empty drink in his hand towards her, silently asking for more ale. He was going to need it in order to see through the night without kicking the other boy’s face. Or worst: lashing out at him, which would only result in further humiliation.

However, the girl ignored him, disappearing from eyesight before he could react. She practically had run away, vanishing through the curtains that led to the kitchen.

“It seems that there is no ale for you, Snow. Well, that’s probably all for the best, since nobody wants to see a drunken bastard.”

Jon clenched his jaw, feeling a slight pain coursing through his teeth. He was already on his feet and walking towards the exit when a hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Please, don’t leave… I’ll bring you another drink”.

The girl in front of him was quite small, and she looked so young and innocent… so out of place.

“I saw what Leena did, but please forgive her, she’s so distracted sometimes…”

“No problem…”

“I’m Maddie”, she said with a bright smile. “Let me bring you another drink, please.”

Jon looked back to his previous seat and noticed that Theon was no longer around.

“Would you…” he stuttered, “would you sit with me for a while?”

She nodded with the shadow of a smile in the corner of her lips, and then told him to wait for a little bit. After that, Jon had a moment of panic. What the hell was he even doing? Inviting a girl to sit with him and then what? Talk? She was probably a prostitute, little chance of her being just a waitress considering the context.

He didn’t have much time to reconsider his decision because the girl (Maddie, wasn’t it?) was waving for him to sit in front of her, a jar of ale positioned on the wooden table. Jon tried really hard to look confident while occupying his seat, but he was extremely nervous, with hands already sweaty and shaking slightly. He could feel his heartbeat racing up, and the conversation hadn't even begun yet.

Then, at the precise instance in which he opened his mouth, he heard it. The scream was bone-chilling, as if coming from the deepest parts of Hell. Whoever was shrieking like that was suffering or had been possessed by a demon. Both, most likely.

Jon looked around and was surprised to see that not many people had noticed it. How drunk do you need to be to ignore something like that? Was it normal to hear screams like that in a brothel? He wouldn’t know, it was his first time there after all. A single glance to Maddie’s shocked expression told him something was wrong.

The screaming had stopped for a moment, and then it started again, not as loud this time. However, he could still hear it. At that point, something clicked in Jon’s brain. Someone was hurting one of the girls… some asshole was taking advantage of them. Whoever was doing it had to be a particularly cruel person to cause such painful sounds.

Jon had not been raised as a man who would just sit there while a girl was being hurt like that. Hence, he stood and hurried to the room from which he thought the sounds were coming. He pushed the heavy door and the sight that welcomed him left him speechless.

There was Theon, but not completely. The transformation seemed to have been in the middle when he caught it.

“Jon!”, the voice of his father coming from behind made him turn around. What the actual FUCK.

What is father doing here?!, his mind was attempting to process the information.

“So, this is the reason why you didn’t want to go hunting?”

A pitiful moan coming from the floor called his attention back to Theon. Only that, at that moment, he wasn’t really Theon anymore. He was still changing, hair growing at a speed that was totally abnormal, while the rest of his body seemed to be shrinking, except the… front part. That was getting bigger and bigger.

“What is… what is this?”

Hearing his father’s voice made him feel a little bit relieved. Whatever was happening there, the Lord of Winterfell would know what to do.

“I think that is… Theon… somehow…”

Lord Stark kneeled next to the miserable creature to take a closer look. The room was silent for a moment, loud music and laughter coming from outside the door being the only sounds. Then, another painful whimper came from the figure laying on the ground. Greyjoy was clutching his hands over his… breasts, taking deep breaths, blue eyes open wide staring at the roof.

“Theon…?”

No reply.

“Theon Greyjoy?”, Lord Stark raised his hand but he didn’t dare to touch him. Her. The Ironborn nodded slightly, the pain seemed to be fading now.

“Yes...”, as soon as the word came out her face contorted in horror. “What… what happened to my voice??!!”

One of her hands started sliding down slowly until it reached her bosom, eyes opening wider, until the point Jon thought they would just pop out of her head. Then, her hand began wandering around the crotch.

“WHERE IS MY DICK??!!”

After that, all hell broke loose.

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Joffrey

Joffrey Baratheon couldn’t remember a single occasion when he had been denied something he wanted. Perhaps only once: when he was younger, his mother told him to stop pulling Myrcella’s hair because it was painful for the little girl. Next day, he cut her hair very short, while they were “playing” alone. His sister had cried for an entire month, unable to look at herself in the mirror. Stupid, pathetic baby. It was just hair.

Anyway, since that day they weren’t left without supervision.

But his lovely mother never told him “no” again. She tried, of course. Lannister blood in her veins, the Queen was truly a lioness and he would always admire that from her. Although she knew it was useless, she would suggest now and then that maybe what he wanted was not a good idea to have.

Hence, when he saw the beautiful lass during the feast walking close to Lady Stark, he knew he wanted her. When they first arrived at Winterfell, he caught the eye of Sansa, she was quite pretty, to be honest. He thought he had found what he desired, especially because of the way she looked at him, like he was the most perfect thing in the entire world.

Now, however, he realized that Sansa wasn’t the right woman for him since she wasn’t really a woman, not yet at least. The Stark girl was closer to Myrcella in that sense. Also, she was so innocent that he could easily manipulate her, no challenge there.

This new girl, who was sitting right in front of him, was a different story. She seemed tough and hard like a stone. Her icy blue eyes didn’t look away while he stared at her, she didn’t blush at all. So brave that she even raised an eyebrow at him. Joffrey really couldn’t remember last time somebody did that to him.

“My lady, I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced…”

Obviously, he didn’t need to be introduced, everybody knew he was the Prince. He was asking her to introduce herself, but she wasn’t replying. After an uncomfortable moment, the youngest Stark girl started to talk.

“She is Alannys Greyjoy, twin sister of Theon Greyjoy, daughter of…”

“The Greyjoys that rebelled against my father? So, you must be Lord Stark’s ward.”

Nobody within hearing range missed the emphasis in his last word.

“No, Theon is Father’s ward.”, Arya continued. “He went back to visit his mother who is feeling sick and…”

“Enough, Arya.”

Finally, the other girl spoke. Just two words and then silence again. When it seemed like Arya was going to continue, Joffrey interrupted her.

“Alannys is a very beautiful name. It suits you, my lady.”, he said, trying to be charming.

Apparently, the Greyjoy lass wasn’t buying it. She ignored him, focusing on her glass of wine which she finished in one big gulp, a little bit of wine sliding down the corner of her pink lips.

Sansa, who was sitting next to Alannys was throwing daggers at her. She was jealous, obviously. He would probably have to deal with that later. At that time, he was more interested in the silent beauty on the other side of the table. He wanted to slap her real hard, forcing her to pay attention to him, maybe shake her shoulders too. Or pull her long wavy hair, that would certainly teach her a lesson. He noticed there was a small, recent scar on her cheek. Perhaps somebody had been trying to do the same.

Before he could collect his feelings and deal with the unfamiliar humiliation starting to burn in his stomach, she stood and walked away, leaving her food untouched. The presumptuous idiot left without even looking at him. His gaze followed her all the way through the hall until she sat in a bench, surrounded by men. She was sitting next to Lord Stark’s bastard.

Joffrey was clutching his fist, face red of pure fury. He had never experienced this extreme feeling of anger, not quite. Sometimes, he would get angry at the antics of his family, particularly his disgusting uncle, the dwarf. But this… this was different. Sansa was talking to him, sweet and annoying voice barely reaching his ears. Honey was dripping from her words, shining smiles, and false courtesies. He wasn’t stupid, he knew all she really wanted was to become a princess, a queen someday.

He started eating slowly, throwing glances towards the table currently occupied by the Greyjoy woman and the bastard. She was the only girl in the entire table, and she was smiling and drinking as if she was one of them. A man.

Suddenly, she stood up, raised her goblet of wine and yelled: “For the Iron Islands!”. Everyone in the table clapped and cheered drinking some more ale. Everyone except the bastard, who was clutching at her dress, trying to make her sit again.

At that moment, Joffrey decided he would have what he wanted, no matter the price. Nobody will stand between him and the object of his desire. It wasn’t even a sexual desire, no. He wanted to tame that pretty beast, make her beg and apologize for the offenses committed. Teach her to learn his place as a woman and how to treat a Prince.

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Jon

Jon wasn’t surprised when Lord Stark told him he was to sit with the servants, it wasn’t the first time. It was predictable and lacked subtlety. At least he got some bitter satisfaction from the way his Father seemed to be embarrassed when asking him. That was his real nature, a stain in Lord Stark’s honor.

However, he was truly surprised when Greyjoy decided to join him. Was he that drunk already? Jon was feeding Ghost under the table and talking to Uncle Benjen when the tall maiden, the final transformation of Theon, had come to sit next to him. She was wearing an elaborated blueish dress, with details in dark red. Uncle Benjen, who had been sitting next to him moved to give space to Theon.

“Is that Lady Stark’s dress?” Jon asked, “Or Sansa’s?”

Greyjoy smiled at him with a scorn.

“Neither. My tits are too big right now, they had to make special clothes for me”.

Jon's gaze immediately fell on her bosom. It wasn’t that big, but definitely bigger than Lady Stark’s and Sansa’s. Not that he had been staring at theirs, it was just… oh for the Gods’ sake, he was wasted.

But he was still conscious. And quite aware of the fact that all gazes on the table, and some beyond, were lingering on the new girl. Some of the men looked hungry, and not precisely for food. A burly man who was sitting in front of her clutching a huge jug of wine was shamelessly ogling her cleavage. One more gulp and he would possibly start drooling over the table.

“What are you doing here?” Jon couldn’t comprehend why Greyjoy would decide to sit with him without being forced to.

Theon came closer, whispering in his ear, hot breath smelling of wine.

“I don’t need to give you any explanations, Snow, but if you insist… I rather drink myself to death before having to eat with the royalty.”

Jon didn’t know what to say to that. The royal family was… a weird group. The two little kids were adorable, but Prince Joffrey looked like a brat. As to the Queen, she was an incredibly beautiful woman, just like the songs said. Perhaps even more. The King, well…

 “My lady, maybe this is not the right place for a young woman to be…” Uncle Benjen said.

“I am not a lady!”

“Huh… then you have fooled me, because you certainly have the things ladies usually have.”

“If you call me lady again, I will kick you under the table… and you too, Snow.”

“What did I do?” Jon certainly hadn’t call Theon a lady, had he…?

“Your dog is annoying me, I’ll kick him too!”

Jon bent to take a look at Ghost (“he’s not a dog, dammit”), and saw that the pup was trying to get under Theon’s dress. Was he cold or he thought he would find food there?

After a couple of drinks, everything seemed to be so funny. And blurry. But mostly, funny. Theon snapping at Uncle Benjen, who was teasing him about his lady-like shape. Ghost trying to climb into his lap after being cruelly rejected by the Ironborn. The stupid song coming from the other side of the Hall. Everything was hilarious.

Until Theon stood abruptly, golden goblet in her hand.

“For the Iron Islands!”

Now, Jon was kind of wasted but he knew that was a bad idea. He was a little bit surprised that everyone on the table were cheering, even his uncle. He really didn’t know much about the Greyjoy rebellion, but he was sure a lot of people had died because of the Ironborn. They weren’t particularly loved among the Seven Kingdoms. 

Father wouldn’t like this. He had to stop Theon from generating trouble, she was going to get another scar in that pretty face or worse. For some reason, Jon didn’t like the idea of Lady Stark slapping Theon again. So, he grabbed her dress trying to get her to sit and stop blabbering about all the good things of those shitty islands. As if.

Luckily, it wasn’t too difficult, seemingly Greyjoy couldn’t even remain on her feet without swinging like a boat trapped in a dock during a storm.

The feast continued its frenetic rhythm of drinking, laughter and music. Everybody seemed to forget the incident. Jon was so drunk that he even forgot he was supposed to hate Theon, because that was the way things worked between them: a continuous fight, mostly silent on his side. The Ironborn, easily irascible, would scream at him over the most ridiculous things, often reminding him of his place as a bastard. As if he needed someone to remind him of that, he was sure most people in Winterfell didn’t even know his first name.

At that moment, however, and with warm wine running through his veins, he couldn’t bring himself to hate anyone.

“What is wrong with you, Snow?” asked Theon. “You’re smiling like an imbecile.”

Jon didn’t know how to retaliate to that, so he just kept his shiny smile while caressing Ghost’s head, who was sleeping peacefully in his lap.

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and when he turned around he was face to face with Robb, who was kneeling on the floor, and showed signs of being even more inebriated than him.

“What are you… doing here?” he asked, words slurring heavily on his tongue.

“Yes, Robb. This is no place for the heir of Winterfell. Go back to your seat next to the princess or Lord Stark will come for you.” How could Theon sound so serious and collected when a moment ago she couldn’t maintain her balance?

The Iron Lady appeared to be immune to the consumption of wine.  

“What did you call me, bastard?”

Oops. He said that out loud.

She kicked him, really hard. Jon almost jumped from the pain, but he couldn’t stop laughing anyway. Robb joined him, and that only increased Theon’s anger.

“Shut up, both of you! Shut up right now or I will kill you!”

Then, she stood up with all her remaining dignity and when Jon thought she was going to follow through her threat, preparing himself for a punch to the nose, she just turned around and walked towards the stairs. But she didn’t go far.

A hand, coming from nowhere, was suddenly on her butt. It wasn’t a spank, the owner of the hand, a young boy who Jon didn’t know, was grabbing and squeezing her butt cheeks.

The expression on Theon’s delicate face before she delivered the punch was priceless. It was really him, behind all those softer feminine lines. The poor guy was already on the floor but the Ironborn didn’t stop kicking him until Uncle Benjen grabbed her from the waist.

Jon and Robb weren’t laughing anymore. Actually, everyone was silent. The King himself started to come closer, with Lord and Lady Stark by his side. This is the part where I run. Jon was trying to find a way out, but it was too late. Soon, there was a circle of unfriendly people surrounding them.

“What is the meaning of this, Theon?”

 Lord Stark was so livid that he apparently forgot the new name. Nobody seemed to care about it, though.

“He touched me!”

As soon as she said that, and Jon saw Prince Joffrey’s face, he knew that the person lying on the floor was a dead man. He also knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it, so he tried to look away and prayed for his father to show mercy.

Effectively, he did. The poor boy was begging for his life, but everyone seemed deaf. Except Lord Stark, who ended up convincing the rest that it was, partly at least, Theon’s fault for sitting with the men.

After that, Theon faded away, disappearing in the middle of whispering voices and leaving behind an image of dark blue and red fury imprinted on Jon’s mind.

Chapter Text

He didn’t remember much of what had happened a few nights ago, but he did remember the way Theon had looked. He had been distracted during the entire evening, just trying to convince himself that it was not a dream or a wicked trick of his mind. That was his friend. She sat at the same table, wearing a delicate gown while drinking wine.

Robb knew that at some point during the Feast, Princess Myrcella had talked to him, but he couldn’t even retain a single piece of that conversation. He did have a clear image of Alannys and her shiny blue eyes watching Prince Joffrey with suspicion and disdain.

He also knew he ought to be paying attention to other matters, like his Father talking with the King, so he could learn something useful for later, perhaps. Something to prepare him for his duty as the future Lord of Winterfell.

That night had ended rather disastrously. But, well… nobody had died so it turned out just fine.

The dawn came, and Robb found himself lying on his bed, lost in his own thoughts, staring at the empty space until he heard the scream. It was coming from the next room. Theon’s room?

He sat and jumped out of the bed, running towards the fuss. He didn’t even think about knocking, the door was partially open anyway.

There, in the middle of the room, was Theon, her face contorted in utter terror. There was blood on her undergarments. For a moment, they just stared at each other, unblinking, until a broken sob came out of her mouth.

“I’m dying! I’M DYING!”

“What happened!?”

Theon started pacing around the room, clutching her stomach and it was obvious she was trying not to look at the blood staining the white linen she was wearing.

“Whoever did this to me… they came back, to finish it… they wanted me DEAD!”

“Let’s go find the Maester!”, Robb tried to take her hand, but Theon was already running out of the room, screaming something that sounded like ‘I’M DYING!’

He followed her through the never-ending maze of Winterfell’s castle, until she turned a corner.

“Wait! That’s not the right way!” he yelled, but Theon didn’t stop. She was still repeating the same chant, completely sure that her death was close.

Of course, after some time the continuous frantic screams and accelerated steps attracted attention. Persons were coming out of the rooms, shocked expressions on their faces. Robb heard some of them asking questions, but he couldn’t stop now, he had to catch up with Theon… Maester Luwin’s room was in the opposite way!

He heard Jon’s voice and briefly looked behind without stopping… his brother was running towards them too, little Ghost following short behind. However, the pup’s short legs didn’t allow him to reach them. The white direwolf tripped and fell, crying for Jon to pick him up but it was too late, since his master was already out of sight, lost in a corner.

“What is going on??” Jon asked.

“Somebody tried to kill Theon!”

“WHAT?”

“He’s bleeding! But we must stop him… Maester Luwin…”

Robb was interrupted when he noticed that the Ironborn had stopped and was standing in front of Lady Catelyn, Sansa, and the Lannister twins. Sansa was covering her mouth with both hands. The Queen raised a delicate eyebrow, confused emotion painted on her lovely face, while the Kingslayer just stood there, eyes fixed on Theon.

Then, his mother took a step closer to her. Lady Catelyn took off her own cloak and used it to cover the shaking body of the bleeding girl.

“Lady Catelyn… I… somebody tried…”, she said while grasping the green cloak, “someone tried to kill me while I was sleeping!”

The older woman peeked at the blood and whispered:

“This is just your moon’s blood.”

“Oh”

Theon Greyjoy passed out, falling to the ground in an instant.

***

Three days had happened since that strange morning. Robb was still shocked. Theon getting her first moon’s blood. The truth was that he couldn’t take her in his arms after the Ironborn’s body fell to the hard, cold floor in the hallway. He wasn’t strong enough, not yet. Theon was skinny but tall and… probably most of her weight was concentrated on those big, round, sweet… no, ok, that was exaggerated. Not THAT big, really. But, he simply didn’t want to accept that he was weak, despite all the training with Ser Rodrik, all the times he defeated Jon and Theon in swordfighting…

Jaime Lannister had to step in and take Theon to his Mother’s bedchambers, and he made it look so easy, as if she was made of feathers. He hadn’t felt such humiliation in a long time.

For that explicit reason, Robb was fighting every day, double time, until sweat drenched his hair and clothes, and his Lady Mother would come to tell him dinner was already served.

In a certain opportunity, he was sharing the training grounds with Jon, crossing swords with heated violence. Meanwhile, Theon shooed the direwolves puppies that were trying to tear apart her dress.

“Stop it!” she yelled at them. “Leave me alone!”

Robb was distracted for a single instant and then, he was lying on the floor, every muscle in pain. His brother was apologizing, already offering a hand, but he refused it, hot red fury on his face. Robb’s gaze fell upon Theon, but the Ironborn was distracted since now Ghost was under the long velvet dress, probably scratching at her legs.

A broken sob of the poor white puppy attracted Jon’s attention too.

“Don’t hit him!”, he exclaimed, moving towards Theon.

“Shut up, Snow!” she replied, looking into Jon’s eyes as if challenging for a fight. “Your stupid dog is annoying as fuck, and you know that.”

Robb stood up slowly and started walking in their direction. Before he reached them, Theon walked away. Robb and Jon exchanged a surprised look until she came back carrying a bow and arrows.

Without saying anything at all, she began hitting the target with every arrow, pretty face focused on the red dot. She was livid, it was easy to read that, but never lost her concentration… anger emanating from her body and overturning on the tense bowstring.

Robb decided that it was not a good time to initiate a conversation with the Ironborn, and apparently, Jon was of the same opinion, since he followed Robb’s steps. They entered the Castle, silently. There was something floating in the air, like an unspoken question, or maybe a curse. However, the silence remained until both took separate ways.

***

The night came and once again Robb was lying on his bed, eyes focused on nothing and mind running like a crazy horse. He heard the knock and someone calling his name in a desperate tone, but it took him some time to go back to reality.

When he opened the door, Theon was standing there. She looked like a red flower enduring wind, trembling from head to toe. Her red velvet dress was reflecting the light from the fire in Robb’s room.

“I made a terrible mistake!” she exclaimed.

Robb guided her to his bed, but Theon didn’t want to sit. She was scared, and Robb hated the idea that he was getting used to that unblinking, terrified look. It shouldn’t be there, in her eyes. Not when he was around.

“What happened?”

“Prince Joffrey… he saw me on the training grounds and… he… wants me to be his betrothed…”

Robb didn’t say anything because, really, what could he say?

“And… I refused, of course. But he was so angry… I had to lie… I told him that your father had already decided an engagement…”

“With whom?”

Her eyes met his and for an instant, Robb felt like his life was coming to an end or, even better, a beginning.

“Jon Snow”, she said.

Chapter Text

Jon

Jon was fishing in a river not too far away from Winterfell when he heard the noise of horses.

“Your Father requires your presence, Jon”, said Jory without dismounting his horse. His face was serious, no evident emotion there.

Unfriendly gazes fell over Jon when he arrived at the castle. Before entering his Father’s chamber, he took a deep breath to try to calm himself. The young boy had a bad feeling about this. An extremely bad feeling. He knocked, and Lord Stark opened the door immediately.

The silence was overwhelming and painful. ‘What have I done?’, he wondered, ‘Besides being born, that is…’

“Prince Joffrey wants to marry Theon…” his father started. “But, apparently… she wants to marry you”.

Jon blinked stupidly, staring at his Father’s stern expression. It was not a joke. Father wasn’t really good at jokes, anyway.

“I can’t believe this is happening”, Lord Stark said, “I should have kept him locked in his room during the royal visit.”

That sounded a bit cruel, in Jon’s opinion. The royalty had stayed in Winterfell for a fortnight already and they weren’t even talking about going back to King’s Landing yet. Jon’s mind was unconsciously skipping the ‘Theon wants to marry you’ part because he definitely couldn’t cope with such information.

“If Balon Greyjoy finds out about this…”, his father continued. “Jon, the Queen is furious. The King keeps asking me questions about the Greyjoy family. I made the mistake of saying ‘Theon’ instead of ‘Alannys’ once… and he noticed it, drunk as he was…”

Lord Stark stopped his speech to look at Jon with something similar to pity in his dark eyes.

“I have no option but to take her with me to the capital or the King himself will go to the Iron Islands… to ask for Theon’s hand on behalf of Joffrey… you can imagine how that will end… probably another war. The Ironborn are extremely proud people. We might have been able to control Lord Greyjoy until now, but if we tell him about his son’s… disappearance…”

“Father”, Jon interrupted, “I’m sorry… but… what did you mean…he wants to marry me?”

“She”, Lord Stark corrected him. “Forget about Theon, don’t mention him anymore. As I told you, Robert is no fool, he’s suspicious.”

Jon assimilated the request: ‘Forget about Theon’. It should be easy.

“She used you as an excuse, Jon. Prince Joffrey proposed to her, and after being rejected, he was livid. Alannys only made it worse. She could have said Robb’s name and perhaps the King might have believed it… but… she said yours.”

Lord Stark stopped there. There was no need for further explanation. A bastard and a highborn lady? Ridiculous.

“The King accused me of forcing her to be your wife. The Lannister woman bit my head off… nobody denies her son anything. They said it was an insult.”

Jon nodded silently.

“Can I go back to my chambers?” he asked.

“Yes, of course…but, Jon… try to avoid the Lannisters, at least for a couple of days… we haven’t decided a departure date yet…”

Jon nodded again and left the room. It was cold outside. He rushed to his room, thinking about warm fire and tactics for evading angry lions.

Finally, he reached his destination… only to find the origin of all the disaster waiting on his bed: Theon. The shock got to a new, higher level.

She immediately turned her attention to Jon, standing up so fast that he took a step back. Angry lions weren’t his only problem. Oh no.

“It was you, right… Snow?” she said with poison in her voice. “You did this to me, I knew you hated me, the feeling is mutual, but I think you took it too far.”

She came closer and pointed a hateful, accusatory finger right to Jon’s nose.

“Confess. Now!”

Jon, completely stunned just opened his mouth but no sound came out of it.

“You’re going to tell me how to reverse this”, she continued, “If you don’t want to lose an eye. I will take it out with my bare hands.”

The Ironborn was shaking with pure fury, but Jon knew she wouldn’t hurt him. Not too much, at least.

“Theon, I had nothing to do with… this”, he said, gesturing at her body. “And I don’t hate you, I have never hated you. It’s always you who…”

“STOP LYING!” she yelled. “I know that you did it!”

“What proof do you have?”

“You were there that night. When I had the girl on my lap… I was distracted, and you put something in my drink… or maybe you paid someone else to do it.”

“I didn’t do anything!”, he tried to defend himself. “What do I have to do so that you’ll believe me? Swear it for the old Gods and the new? Swear for your Drowned God?”

“No. Swear it for Ghost’s life. If you are lying, he’ll die.”

“What? Are you saying that you’ll kill…?”

“No! I won’t kill your stupid dog, Snow. The Gods will if you’re lying.”

Jon smiled and was rewarded with Theon’s confused look.

“Great” he said. “Then Ghost will have a very long and healthy life because I’m not lying.”

Next moment, Theon was exiting the room in a swift movement, but her long dress got caught in the door.

“Fuck it!”, she exclaimed, kicking the heavy wooden door. She broke free, and walked away, leaving behind a piece of dark velvet from the gown. Her voice was fading, but Jon heard the irritated whisper:

“Stupid bastard!”

Jon’s mind was a complete mess. Because after all that, the only thing he could think about was ‘But you said that you wanted to marry this stupid bastard.’

Chapter Text

Theon

Theon was resting on his bed, trying to sleep, but it was simply impossible. There were too many things inside his head.

‘You’re not a man anymore. You need to start behaving like a proper lady’, Lady Stark had told him after the incident during the Feast when that idiot had touched his butt. Ick.

He did not answer, afraid of lashing out and disrespecting her.

‘You need to think of a lady’s name’, Lord Stark had said previously. It was so kind of him to allow Theon to choose his own fucking name.

Arya had been particularly annoying that night. The little brat had suggested many names, in front of everyone, of course, just to provoke him. They were having dinner the night before the arrival of King Robert.

“How about Tyanna?”, she asked. “I heard Father’s sister Lyanna was very beautiful, just like you are. And, since you’re Theon, we should change the L for a T…”

“Arya, that’s enough, please.” Lord Stark was a second away from losing his patience. “Just pick a name, Theon.”

“Alannys”, Theon had said.

At that moment it had been so easy to just say his mother’s name. Now, it sounded stupid. His eyes dwelled on his surroundings, at least, they had allowed him to keep the same bedroom, he thought.

“Fuck, I need a drink!”

He stood and without much preamble left the room, heading to the kitchen. He was wearing layers of undergarments, that, for him, were just as annoying and useless as the dresses he was forced to cover himself with so… no need for extra clothes. Besides, it was so late in the night that the probabilities of finding someone still awake were minimal.

The Ironborn sneaked into the kitchen and found the wine instantly: his past as a ladies’ man was quite useful now. He knew every corner of the vast kitchen like the palm of his hand.

After some very nice wine, sleep came easily.

Next day, Theon opened his eyes, and for a few seconds, everything was blurry and confusing. He didn’t want to wake up, he was happy enough in his sleeping, despite the nightmares and weird dreams. It was better than reality, because when he turned around, face down (his favorite position for sleeping), there was a couple of hindrances… with a deep sigh, he decided to get up and face another day of torture.

Thankfully, his “moon’s blood” was just a sad and humiliating memory, but he knew it would happen again. He needed to find a cure for his pitiful condition, as soon as possible.

He stood for a long moment staring at his reflection in the mirror, it was getting more difficult to recognize his own face every day. The Ironborn’s eyes were exactly the same. The nose was also quite similar. But there was no beard, no masculine jaw… nothing… no masculinity whatsoever…

“Well, I’m still Theon”, he said out loud and the voice sounded so foreign, so different that the words were a bit hard to believe.

Somebody knocked his door. He ran towards the bed and pretended to be asleep, but then he heard Lord Stark’s voice. Shit. He thought he could have been able to avoid the rest of the world for the day.

Theon opened the door without remembering that he was only wearing undergarments, his mind still heavy with sleep.

Lord Stark looked at him, a bit surprised, and told him to get dressed and go downstairs. He mumbled an apology and left quickly leaving Theon alone again.

The poor, young boy had no idea of what to do with himself. Since all this madness had begun, handmaids had been helping him to get dressed. Now, he was faced with the horrors of corsets, fussy dresses, and stupid long hair. He had tried to cut it, but Lady Stark didn’t allow him. How dare she, it was his fucking hair after all!

After some time, when it was obvious that it was beyond his capacities to wear the dark green dress that has been assigned by Lady Stark for that day, he heard another knock.

“Are you ready?”, it was Lord Stark again.

“No, I’m sorry, my lord”, he replied. “I can’t wear the dress… don’t know how to…”

A moment later, the handmaids were all over him. In some other circumstances, he would have appreciated the amount of attention from the girls. Not now, though. They were kind of rough, as if Theon had done something to them, pressing the corset until he wasn’t able to breathe properly. He tried to tell them, but they ignored him. All false courtesies and dry smiles, as if the Ironborn was just a spoiled kid.

Then, the girls delivered Theon to Jory, who gave him another dry smile. What was wrong with these people? Seriously, what had he done to them? Even if he, as a man, had fucked the girls (which he was sure he didn’t) or some shit like that, they didn’t really know he was actually Theon.

Besides, he had definitely not fucked Jory, even though he had been in his list before.

Hence, what the fuck?

Perhaps the answer was waiting for him in the courtyard. When he arrived, every single pair of eyes turned to him. He managed to spot Robb, who was staring at him with a rather stupid expression, the sun covering his auburn curls. Snow was next to him but, for some reason, he avoided Theon’s look.

Then, he saw him. The Dornish pig. Prince Oberyn.

His eyes were dark and greedy, as he inspected Theon’s body from the distance, as if qualifying his attributes. A beautiful dark-skinned woman was also analyzing the Ironborn’s physiognomy.

“And there she is…!”, Oberyn said walking slowly and elegantly towards Theon. “The songs didn’t lie, no… you are truly an astonishing beauty, my lady.”

“Songs…?”, he asked, nervous. The distance between them was getting shorter and shorter and the weight of that dark, sinful gaze was too much.

Theon took a step back, unconsciously. He turned to look at the rest of the people. Everyone seemed to be tense, as if waiting for something terrible to happen. Jory was caressing the hilt of his sword, while casting occasional looks in the direction of Lord Stark. The King was silent, but his eyes didn’t leave the figure of the Dornish Prince for a single instant. And Joffrey… if looks could kill, then the man would be already dead.

“Yes, my lady”, Prince Oberyn said, “Tales about your beauty reached Dorne, can you imagine my curiosity? Almost every night, traveler singers delighted us with very colorful songs about you…”

Theon didn’t reply because the tall woman was currently hypnotizing him with her deep, black orbs. Gods, those eyes had thousand of stories to tell, and the Ironborn was wondering…

“Enough of this!”, King Robert exclaimed, suddenly. “Prince Oberyn, you came here unannounced and…”

The Dornish Prince turned his attention to the King, but just for an instant, and then his eyes were again on Theon.

“But, your grace, what is the problem? We thought it was a good idea to visit Winterfell, since we’ve never…”

“You knew that we were here…”

At this, Oberyn turned his full attention to the King, raising an eyebrow.

“We did not know, Your Grace, but, anyway, I do not understand the problem.”

His tone was cold as snow, although he was smiling charmingly.

Apparently, Lord Stark decided that it was a good time to intervene.

“Prince Oberyn, you must know that we are very glad for your presence here, but, at the present time the Castle of Winterfell does not have enough space for all of you…”

“All of us? It’s just me and my beautiful Ellaria…”, the Prince said, holding the woman’s hand.

Lord Stark frowned and sent a questioning look towards the rest of the Dornish retinue.

“Oh, them…no, my lord, please don’t worry about them… my men will find a place to sleep in the brothel…”

Theon snorted, unable to contain himself. The Dornish group was a funny one. They were all smirking, and they honestly seemed to love their Prince very much. ‘Well’, Theon thought, ‘maybe this pig is not so bad after all.’

However, when the Prince once again concentrated his full attention on the Ironborn, he changed his mind. Maybe not a proper pig, but more of a snake, ready to jump into his neck and suck him dry. Poison, that was what Theon saw in those sneaky eyes.

“Hence, Lord Stark… Your Grace, would you allow me and Ellaria to spend a couple of nights in your castle? We’ve traveled so far…”

The Ironborn clearly felt how Lord Stark was trapped in the middle, because the King, and the Queen, definitely did not want Oberyn there at all. On the other hand, he was an excellent host and he would never turn his back on a Prince.

“Yes, of course, Prince Oberyn. My wife will show you the room.”

After Lady Stark took the Dornish couple with her, Theon finally broke free of the spell. With a deep sigh, he let himself smile a bit. It was a beautiful sunny day, after all, and he was alive. A man caught inside a woman’s body, but still… alive…

Slowly, he started to walk back to his room, and just when he was about to go in, Robb was stopping him, hand on Theon’s shoulder. He shrieked, surprised. That sly little piece of… how come he didn’t hear Robb following him? The Ironborn was suddenly furious because the scream was extremely girly… like Sansa used to yell when encountering a fucking cockroach.

Robb smiled as if scared of his reaction. ‘Oh yes, you should be scared, little lord, how dare you…’

Theon’s thinking was interrupted by another sudden and unwanted apparition. The bastard, of course.

“What are you doing here?”, he whispered furiously.

“Why are you always so angry?”, Robb asked pitifully, and Theon had never wanted to slap him so hard.

Then, he decided not to fight them, giving up immediately. It was useless, anyway. So, with a long, elegant hand he opened the door and let them in. No words were spoken. Nothing.

Theon found the remaining wine in the bottle that he had taken from the kitchen last night waiting for him on the table. Still silent, the Ironborn proceeded to serve a cup of wine for each of them. He knew that they wanted to reject it, it was morning after all, but a single pointed look towards them convinced the brats to drink.

“Theon”, the bastard said suddenly. “Father… Father talked to me about you… going to King’s Landing.”

“WHAT?”, Theon yelled, and for an instant, it seemed like the cup of wine would end in Jon’s face.

“Yes… he said that…”, Jon was having difficulties explaining so Theon decided to help him by smacking his head.

“Finish the fucking sentence!!”

Jon sent him an angry look but obeyed nonetheless.

“You will have to marry Joffrey, or the King will talk to Lord Greyjoy and ask for your hand.”

Theon didn’t know how to react, at first. Should he cry or laugh? Faced with such a dilemma, he did both, going hysterical in a mere heartbeat.

“Oh, how kind of your Lord Father to tell me such a thing! Maybe he thought I would try to run away before I have to marry that stupid Prince…!”

“Theon, please, calm down…” Robb tried to appease the Ironborn, but it was probably easier to dominate a poisonous snake.

“Well, guess what? I AM RUNNING AWAY!”, he walked towards the door, but Jon blocked his way.

“Out of my way, bastard!”

“No. I won’t let you. Where would you go anyway? Nobody knows you. Even if your family remembers your face, they don’t know who this woman is…”

“FUCK YOU!!”

“Both of you, stop it”, Robb was still confident that he was able to stop a tragedy.

Jon sighed and, with an inhuman effort, focused his eyes on Theon’s. His voice was cold and very calm. Detached from his body, as if he was just repeating a speech that had been on his mind for some time.

“Listen. I don’t know who did this to you, I already told you it wasn’t me. I want to help you and if we want to stop your departure to King’s Landing… and your marriage with Joffrey, then we must act quickly.”

The Ironborn was stunned. The bastard offering his help? Seriously?

“I will help too.” Robb said. “I promise you, Theon, we will find a way to revert this situation, so you can stay here…”

“I… well, thank you…”

“I thought we should start searching in the brothel.”, Jon said. “I remember the girl who gave you the drink, she might be the key to solve this…”

“Yes, let’s go find that bitch!”, Theon screamed and once again tried to leave the room. And, once again he was stopped by Snow.

“No, you can’t go with us!”, he said, “A lady like you in the brothel? What would people say?”

The Ironborn was sure that, behind that serious expression the bastard was making fun of him. Yes, there it was. A tiny smile on his ridiculous face.

However, Theon was too tired to fight, especially when they had such short time. He had no idea when Lord Stark would take him to King’s Landing to face a cruel destiny.

“Good. Then, go!”, since the two idiots didn’t move, he pushed them towards the door.

After he heard the accelerated steps fading away in the distance, he drank some wine, a happy smile dancing on his lips.

“Maybe there’s hope, after all.”

Chapter Text

Robb

Robb was getting dizzy and not precisely because of the drinks. There was a strange and overwhelming smell in that establishment.

His presence had attracted some attention from the girls and the clients, it wasn't a common view, after all, the heir of Winterfell in the whorehouse. He'd been there only twice before, with Theon, of course.

After refilling his cup with some more water, Robb turned to look at his left, where Jon was sitting.

"She's not here", his brother said, while looking around.

"Theon will kill us if we can't find her."

Jon smiled at that, but Robb wasn't really intending to make a joke. The Ironborn was about to lose his mind and, to be honest, it was scary.

They have been there for quite some time now, with no success and Robb was about to suggest that they should head back to the Castle when Jon stood up.

"Wait here."

Without further explanations, his brother left him there, open mouthed, the words caught in his tongue. He followed him with his gaze as Jon walked rapidly, evading different types of obstacles in his way, until he stopped to talk to a short, blond girl. She seemed to be glad at first, but after a brief moment, the girl started to show signs of distress.

Denying something with sharp head movements, she left Jon, who had been gesticulating with his hands during the whole conversation. Robb knew that his brother only did that when he was extremely nervous.

Robb had no idea at what point they stopped drinking water and changed to something stronger. From time to time, they would take turns to walk around looking for the misterious girl. Jon had described her with a lot of details, it should be easy to find her...

He jumped to his feet, determined to catch her, and nodding to Jon he walk away from their table.

However, after some time it became obvious that she wasn't there. He found five women with similar characteristics, but when he asked Jon for confirmation, he shook his head vehemently, every single time. Jon's mane of hair was a mess of curls already, not just due to the continuos shaking of his head but also because he would make it wilder with his hands, full of frustration.

Robb sighed deeply, as feelings of concern and dispair filled his heart once more. He had been hopeful, too much, perhaps. Thinking with more clarity, if the girl had intentionally done harm to Theon, it seemed to be only logical for her to leave Winterfell immediately after. They will never find her.

Then, Robb saw a familiar face.

"Jon!", he exclaimed, grabbing his brother's sleeve. "Is that Theon?"

But, when Jon turned to look in the direction that Robb was pointing to, the newcomer had disappeared. He was quite sure that it was the Ironborn indeed, even if he saw her only for a heartbeat.

Robb decided to go after the problematic "lady", what was she thinking anyway? What if someone recognized her? She seemed to be famous now, with that of the songs mentioned by Prince Oberyn.

After a truly exhaustive search, with Jon following him closely, they finally found her. She was coming out of a room, with red cheeks and wide eyes.

"What the hell...?", Jon said "Did you really think that you could fool someone... wearing that?

Theon stared down at herself in confusion. She was fully dressed as a man, her long hair was tied and hidden inside the white shirt. The worst part, though, was the black moustache decorating her facial features.

He couldn't hold it down, coudn't fight it. A wild, reckless burst of laughter came out of Robb. It was just too ridiculous.

"Where did you get the mustache, Greyjoy?", Jon asked with a mocking tone.

At that point, Robb was already wiping tears from his cheeks, ignoring the fact that Theon was getting furious.

The Ironborn opened her mouth, but before she could reply, a dark figure came out of the door behind her. Prince Oberyn offered them a lazy smile.

"My dear, why don't you come back here? The conversation was genuinely interesting."

Theon sent a pointed, angry look towards the brothers and then smiled at the Dornish Prince, removing her mustache effortlessly. She went inside the room, and the smirk that Oberyn sent directly to Robb before closing the door erased all traces of laughter in him.

"Well...", Robb said. "I'm not sure..."

Jon wasn't paying any attention to his clumsy words, since he started to knock the door immediately, and he didn't stop until Oberyn opened it again. He didn't seem to be upset by the disturbance, a playful smile plastered on his face.

"Yes?"

"We need to speak with Alannys.", Jon said, a shadow of anger in his voice.

"Lady Alannys is busy right now, I'm sorry."

What happened next truly surprised Robb. Jon was usually kind and quiet, a bit submissive regarding other people. Possibly it was just the alcohol running through his blood, because he had never expected to see Jon pushing his way into the room.