Archive of Our Own

Theon hung limp and naked, strung up by the wrists in a way reminiscent of the old basement room, and that blessed ceiling hook. Ramsay caressed his cheek, staring into those dazed eyes. "So silly," he crooned. "My sweet, silly pup. What would you do without me?" His only response was a half-hearted wiggle, but Theon was caught fast against the edge of the cot and the wall. The chain clinked against the rung, and Theon's eyes flickered weakly to the source of the sound. 

"Stay still, sweet pup," Ramsay said, settling his hands delicately on Theon's waist. Theon did the exact opposite, flinching away so the cot banged against the wall again, and Theon slipped further against it. The chain slipped free of its catch and his arms fell, wrenched behind his back. Ramsay clucked his tongue softly. "Silly pet," he chided. "Sit still."

He took him again, and this time Theon went dead still, trembling like a baby rabbit. Ramsay made quick work of the situation, freeing the chain from where it had gotten tangled, and he helped Theon to stand. He didn't look up at him, instead staring down at his bare feet, hair falling lank over his eyes. Ramsay took his chin and turned his face up towards him. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice soft and saccharine. Theon, still trembling, shook his head ever so slightly. Ramsay pulled him into a hug. "Good. Why don't you lay down, pup? You must be so tired... How long were you stuck like that?" 

He had found him in that position; Theon had woken from a nightmare, thrashed about, and fell off the cot with his chain all tangled up in the sheets and the posts of the cot where it was attached. 

"...Don't know," Theon mumbled. Ramsay helped him to lay down, pulling the sheets over his slender body. After a brief consideration, he slipped into bed beside Theon. He was cold and so small against him, so Ramsay wrapped his arms around Theon and held him close.

"I love you," he said softly. He loved the way it felt to say that, and the way Theon slowly stopped shaking at the sound of the words. "I love you. I love you, little pup. Sweet, perfect pet." Sweet, rich, melodious; the words exploded a symphony on his tongue as they rolled off, and Ramsay was almost beside himself with delight. "I love you."

Ramsay would fall asleep there, Theon held in a vice grip against his chest, but Theon would lay awake all night and stare in mute, frozen terror at his captor's face. 

They were roused in the morning by the sound of screaming, a wrenching guttural scream that had Theon flying out of bed with Stark's name on his lips. 

"Robb!" he wailed, yanking at the chain. The cuffs held fast, and he tripped under the force of his own momentum. "Robb! Ramsay, please! Help him, let me help him! They're hurting him! Robb!"

Ramsay reclined against the pillows, inspecting a fingernail. "Oh, it's chipped. Shame," he muttered. Theon whirled his head back and stared at him, wild-eyed and desperate. "He's fine, pup. Just getting his comeuppance."

"Comeuppance?" Theon echoed, mouth rounded in a frozen question. Ramsay shrugged. 

"He stole you from me, didn't he?" Ramsay sat up and hopped from the cot, crouching beside Theon. "You belong to me, and he stole you away. Made you forget."

Theon, however, was still at a loss to what 'comeuppance' meant. Robb screamed again, petering out only when he choked on his own voice, and Theon was all but sobbing on the floor. Ramsay clucked his tongue softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. 

"You'll be okay, pup, don't worry. I'd never hurt you."

"You did," he said after a long, quivering moment. Ramsay paused.

"I never meant to. And that was then, this—"

"You did. You did."

"Shhh, shhhh.... Hush, pup, that's all in the past now. Nothing before now matters, okay? Stark doesn't matter, only us, only this. We're going to go home soon, and you'll be mine forever. I'll be yours." That was all Ramsay wanted, and he grasped Theon's face by the chin and turned it upwards, pressing his lips against Theon's. Theon stiffened, wriggling in his grasp and trying to pull back. Ramsay let him go after a moment, and Theon jerked away so hard he fell backwards against the floor. Ramsay eyed him. 

"You'll realize it soon enough, my pet. There's nothing left for you outside of me."

"You hurt me," Theon repeated stubbornly. "All the time, you did, and you meant it. You hunted me."

It was always the same accusations, and he only had the same excuses to offer. The same reasons. "That was before I knew, Theon. I only knew once I lost you, and you punished me, brave pup." He grabbed his arm, pulling him closer, oblivious to how Theon was trembling. "But I forgave you. Forgive me, pup. And we'll go home." 

But Theon only stared dumbly, quivering with fear. Ramsay touched his cheek and Theon flinched back from the touch. Ramsay stood, and down the hall, Robb Stark screeched in pain. He almost smiled; what on earth were they doing to him, anyways? But Theon grabbed at his pant leg, drawing his attention downwards. 

"Make them stop hurting him, please," he begged. "Please. Please, Rams."

"I will, sweet pet. I'll be back, okay? Behave for me." Theon's hand fell limp to the floor and he watched Ramsay leave, the chain coiled limp on the floor around him. Soon enough, he wouldn't need the chains. Soon enough, Ramsay would be able to trust him. 

He stopped by Stark's door, opening it just briefly enough to catch a glimpse of Luton and Yellow Dick taking turns playing with him. Skinner was leaned against the wall, watching. Stark was bleeding from superficial wounds, panting, and electric cables were clamped to his nipples. Ramsay smirked. 

"Keep it down, alright? But have fun." 

Luton nodded and forced a cloth into Stark's mouth to muffle his cries. Skinner followed Ramsay out, his face set in annoyance. They made it halfway down the hall in silence before Skinner spoke up, and they both stopped walking to face each other.

"What're you gonna do, Rams?"

"What?" 

Skinner gave him a flat look. "You know what, asshole. What are you going to do when he doesn't love you? When all this ends up being for nothing? Sure it's fun now, but eventually we'll get caught. And we'll get killed."

"You wanted to come back too. Don't think I don't know you and Damon were pissed. You want revenge?" Ramsay growled. Skinner's cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment. "Don't even think about touching him, Skinner. You or Damon. Don't you fucking dare. He's mine." 

As he stormed off, Skinner called after him. "He's not yours, Ramsay. Never again, and the sooner you learn that the better!" Ramsay disappeared around the corner, and Skinner grumbled. "Hurry up, asshole. Then we can all go home." He glanced down the hall at Theon's door, almost contemplating, but Ramsay's cold eyes flashed warningly in his mind and he stepped away. Ramsay wasn't joking, and he knew it. He retreated off down the hall and up the stairs. Just around the corner in the small living room, Ramsay was sulking in private. 

Skinner was right, he knew. All too right. What would he do if Theon couldn't love him again? What would Ramsay do, if he couldn't have Theon? He loved him, really loved him like he never thought he could love a person, and it had him sick and floating at the same time. He didn't know what he would do, or what he could do. He just had to hope that it wouldn't come to that.