What is dead may never die (Theon SI)

Prologue

Eddard POV

It was a week since the finding of the direwolves. My children were overjoyed with their new pets. But the news afterward doesn't give much joy. Even if it would be nice to meet Robert again after all those years, I knew why he was coming.

It would be hard to say no to him, especially now when he is a king. The news of Jon Arryn's death was hard to take. There are many things I need to think about. Theon's behavior was alarming too.

After finding the direwolves, he became enclosed—demanding training for my master-at-arms to a gruesome decree. He doesn't talk much anymore, no japes, no nothing. He is training with his sword or bow to the point he needs to be forced to stop. And then he decides to pick up a spear too.

"Lord Stark," Ser Cassel called out for me. "It is good to find you. It is about Theon. He is again practicing with his bow, it's been hours, and he refuses to stop."

"I will see to him," I responded, hiding my concern.

Even if young Theon was my ward, I tried to teach him as I do to my other children. It is hard to see him acting like not himself. Like he is punishing himself for things only he knows he did. It is time I had put him straight again before he hurts himself to the irreversible decree.

…

The sound of arrows flying through the air caught my attention first. When I walked toward Theon one, two, and three more times, I heard that sound. After seeing me approach, he looked at me and then turned back to his practice. His hands were bloody. I watched as blood dripped to the ground as he picked a new arrow.

"Theon, I think you trained enough for today," I called out to him.

"It will never be enough," He responded with a dead voice.

I saw how tired his eyes were, like he hadn't slept for days, taking a better look at him. He was leaner than ever. It was no surprise. After all, he stopped having meals with us in the past week. But what struck me most was his expression. He looked lost.

"You won't get better like this. Let's go back home to see Maester Luwin about your hands," I told him calmly.

"Home? I don't have a home anymore, Lord Stark," The boy replied.

"What are you talking about? Winterfell will always be your home," I tried to calm him down as he looked at me, upset.

"Winterfell, Iron Islands, It doesn't matter where I am. I will never be home. Not anymore," He told me and turned away to continue his practice.

Before he could do so, I grabbed his arm and stopped him. Gods, he was so weak that he didn't even have the strength to pull away. I don't know what happened to him, but this behavior will endanger him further. I had to stop him somehow.

"Theon, we are worried about you. Let's go to Maester Luwin, and then we can talk things out," I said to him.

"I guess I have to, don't I, Lord Stark," He spoke differently. "I am yours to command."

"That's not what I meant. Your hand is bleeding. We need to patch you up," I explained to Theon.

"It is," He agreed, but his tone was indifferent. "I should patch it up."

…

When Maester Luwin looked after Theon, I guided him away from the boy. Theon's behavior was unnatural. I had known the boy for almost ten years now. I could see that it wasn't the same boy I once knew.

"Maester Luwin," I begin quietly. "Do you know what happened to him?"

"I am sorry, my lord, but I could not say," He replied apologetically.

"There must be something," I muttered in a quiet tone. "Was there any news from Iron Islands? Did he get any letter?"

"No, my lord, there was nothing," Maester Luwin answered while still thinking. "Maybe, it is lack of letters that we should concern ourselves."

"What do you mean?" I asked in confusion.

"Young Theon didn't get any letters from his family in more than a year," Maester Luwin explained. "Maybe, he feels abandoned, with no letters even to ask how he is doing, and now after your children got their wolf pups, he feels alone. It isn't uncommon to feel like you don't belong among wards and foster children. With his family seeming to not care about him, he feels like he doesn't have anyone anyone."

"Maybe, but how does that explain his training to death?" I asked.

"It is his way to put his mind out of unpleasant thoughts," Luwin answered. "I am sorry, but there isn't much we can honestly do for him."

"He is not to leave his chambers before he is fully healed, am I clear?" I command Maester Luwin.

"Understood, my lord," Maester Luwin nods his head.

Damn it all. More issues are coming up by the day.

Theon POV

I knew it was a dream. The dream has repeated night after night since I got into this body. Tree branches wrapped around me. Leaves cutting me like tiny blades. It was always the same, with roots digging into my body.

My body? No, it wasn't my body. I could feel the excruciating pain. I had memories of this body. The feeling of anger and frustration pulsed through me. But it wasn't my body.

Everything was unfamiliar to me, from its movements to its feelings. It wasn't mine, and it was disconcerting. Everything I did wasn't me. Everything I remembered wasn't real, shouldn't be real. Was I even real?

"You don't belong here," The voice called out to me as roots dug deeper into my body.

What was the point of this? I knew I didn't belong there. I know it better than anyone else. But the voice felt like repeating this useless shit over and over and over again. It is starting to grind on my gears.

I usually was a calm person. In my life, previous life, I never raised my voice. It was probably because my father liked to yell at me from a young age. I always hated him for that. He never raised his hands against me. He didn't drink or even smoke, but he liked to yell at me for whatever reason. No matter how insignificant it might have been. You forgot to wash dishes. Listen to me yell at you for half of hour. You dared to sit on the computer when I needed to, listen to me rave at you about how you spend too much time on the internet.

I hated him, and then he decided to fucking die. Leaving me with my hatred unanswered. That is why I never raised my voice. I never wanted to become someone like my father. But this damn voice is getting annoying. Fine, rip me apart to pieces, cut me a thousand times, but what the fucking point in repeating this shit when I know it already.

"You don't belong there," The voice again told me the same shit.

"I know, you fucking creepy tree!" I yelled, the first time in either of my lives. "What do you want me to do about it, you piece of dried burning wood. You fucking disregarded building material."

I yelled all my frustrations. It is one thing dying in a fucking car accident, but it is another to be reborn in a fucking world where the only thing you can look forward to is your death. Now, this fucking magical tree tries to torture me in my sleep. I fucking had enough.

"Begone, you don't belong there," The voice once fucking again repeats it.

"You know what, fuck you, fuck the gods that put me in this body. I show you I will survive in this fucking world. No, I will not only survive, but I will also live, and I will thrive in it!" I shouted and grabbed the tree branches ripping them from me.

Even if the blades made of leaves cut my hands, I still broke the branches. Then ripped the roots from my body. Once I was free, I looked at this tree with a face carved in it. I held my middle finger at it, and then I woke up.