character:-theon-greyjoy

4

I am Theon Greyjoy, last living son of Balon Greyjoy. And she is your rightful ruler. Those of you that have sailed under her, and there are many of you here, you know what she is!

Yara Greyjoy is like the wildest fanfiction material come true. the gayest pirate to sail the sea, she likes girls, drinking, tits, the sea. did I mention girls. takes no shit from no one, steals ships, loves and supports her brother. and is currently on a quest to make a pact with a ‘dragon queen’ to claim back her land along with her brother.

this is so wild. fuck me up Yara Greyjoy. Fuck. me .up. 

  • what she says:i'm fine
  • what she means:alfie allen is so underappreciated, like he's such an unbelievably good actor. like there was that one scene in game of thrones where he was trying to get those people to turn over to ramsay bolton, and he was literally playing theon greyjoy who was playing reek who was playing theon greyjoy and you could see the whole struggle in his face like you could tell that he was a second away from breaking down and you can see so much of his struggle in his eyes and his posture and even the way his lip slightly trembles in a variety of different scenes, like he conveys so much with so little, why don't people realize more of how much of a fucking great actor this man is honestly.
2

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.”

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.”

(requested by anonymous)

10

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.”

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.

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. 

They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran’s face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water. “I had to have two heads, else they would have mocked me … laughed at me … they …

A voice said, ”Who are you talking to?

Theon spun, terrified that Ramsay had found him, but it was just the washerwomen—Holly, Rowan, and one whose name he did not know. ”The ghosts,“ he blurted. They whisper to me. They … they know my name.

- A Ghost in Winterfell (ADWD)