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Summary
Ramsay smiles. “Poor little Theon Greyjoy. Never knows what he wants. Never knows what's good for him. But I do.”
He leans forward, grabbing the man's jaw between his meaty fingers.
“You want to be loved so badly it's embarrassing. Unconditionally, for exactly who and what you are. You want to be seen for all your grotesque little nuances, and cared for anyways. Maybe because of them, even.”
Theon closes his eyes, tear tracks cutting lines through the dirt on his cheeks.
“But the problem with that, little princeling, is that love can only be earned through loyalty.” Ramsay sneers, eyes alight with mirth. “And you've never learned to be a loyal dog, have you? No. You're a traitorous, sniveling wretch.”
“But I can fix that!” Ramsay leans in, pressing his lips to Theon's ear intimately, hot breath on the side of his jaw. Whispers, melodic and foreboding.
“I can fix you.”