It’s been almost a year since the siege of Winterfell and in that time, no one has heard for Theon Grayjoy. Everyone has assumed he’s dead, but not you.

After months of hunting, you’ve found that your beloved is being held prisoner in Dreadfort, home of Ramsay Bolton, the bastard. He’s a sadistic man, deriving pleasure from torturing his victims, gods know what he’s doing to Theon at this moment….

You sneak in through the back and hear crying coming from the dog kennels. Unsheathing your dagger, you approach to find… a very thin, sickly man curled up in a dog cage and crying. Getting a closer look, you realize, to your horror, it’s Theon.

He looks like shit, to say the least. His hair is greasy matted, he’s skin and bones and has a horrible smell, like he hasn’t washed in weeks. You notice he’s missing three fingers and a few toes and one of his front teeth has been knocked out….

“Theon,” you whisper, trying to get his attention without waking anyone. You take off your hood, revealing yourself. “It’s me. I’m here to rescue you.”

Theon looks up, his eyes red and his cheeks sunken. His beard, which was once well groomed, is now patchy.

“I-I don’t know who you are,” he says, his voice quivering. “My name isn’t Theon… it’s Reek, rhythms with weak….”