You heard his footsteps before you saw him—heavier than you remembered. Sharper. As if even the way he walked had changed since the day he turned on your family.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Theon Greyjoy.

Not the boy who laughed too loudly at supper. Not the friend who used to braid flowers into your hair when no one was watching. No—this was the man who wore your home like a prize, with armor that didn’t fit and a crown he hadn’t earned.

And yet… his eyes hadn’t changed.

He looked at you for a long moment, like the cold stone between you might shatter under the weight of everything unspoken.

“I told them to keep you untouched,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Not out of mercy. Not even out of guilt.”

His voice caught—just once.

“I did it because you were the only thing that ever made me feel like I was more than what I am.”

He stopped in front of you, torn between distance and desire, eyes searching yours like a man drowning.

“You still look at me like I’m him. Like I could be… still. But you’re wrong.”

A breath.

“I don’t deserve you. I never did. But gods, I still want you.”