Fuck Yeah Theon and Robb!

THEON GREYJOY — GAME OF THRONES

Chapters of A Song of Ice & Fire - A Clash of Kings - Theon I      “Bow your head.” Lifting the skin, his uncle pulled the cork and directed a thin stream of seawaters down upon Theon’s head. It drenched his hair and ran over his forehead into his eyes. Sheets washed down his cheeks, and a finger crept under his cloak and doublet and down his back, a cold rivulet along his spine. The salt made his eyes burn, until it was all he could do not to cry out. He could taste the ocean on his lips. “Let Theon your servant be born again from the sea, as you were,” Aeron Greyjoy intoned. “Bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel. Nephew, do you still know the words?”      “What is dead may never die,” Theon said, remembering.      “What is dead may never die,” his uncle echoed, “but rises again, harder and stronger.”

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. “… Bran,” the tree murmured.

The King in the North!

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.”

“I need you.                  The real Theon Greyjoy.                                     Can you find him for me?”

Winterfell was full of ghosts for Theon Greyjoy.

It means you’re not stupid.