The snow fell from the gloomy sky, dusting Theon's hair and shoulders. But he didn't go inside like Yara had a whole hour ago. He sat on the bench and stared blankly at the trees. A whole manner of thoughts raced through his addled brain. Memories of pain and guilt. Salt and tears. Sometimes his mind would stray a little too far and he'd find himself back in the dog kennel Ramsay had kept him in for seven years.

Sometimes he had to remind himself his name was Theon. Not Reek.

The snow crunched with approaching footsteps and Theon jolted like he was prepared to enter a dead sprint. But then he saw you, and your hand was in his hair. Theon's muscles relaxed just a bit, just enough to show trust.

You were just a maid. You'd been Ramsay's maid that helped Sansa, to which he was eternally grateful. But you'd also been so kind. You'd defended him as much as possible despite the risk to your life. So Theon and Sansa had brought you back to Winterfell with them after all was said and done.