Chapter Text
Ysilla liked Theon. Sure, the kid could be arrogant, but he was young. He just needed someone to look out for him, and Ysilla was more than happy to provide. She could be something of a guide for him.
She saw, she would admit it, fragments of herself in him. She had been about his years when she had been captured, young and afraid. She was grown now, older and wiser, and she had advice to give. Maybe she could help him fare better than she had.
He was eager for knowledge, with a kind of wary hunger she recognised. So when he asked her questions she told him, with no dissembling. He would soon know her better than her husband, she thought with a trace of irony. Indeed, he might know her better than anyone. She only told him what he asked, but she kept nothing back in her answers. Why should she? This child was not one of her captors. They were alike.
She admitted that his tendencies in discussion of women disturbed her, but if no-one had ever taught him respect, of course he never learned. She argued back, told him about her homeland’s beliefs and, to do him credit, he did listen. He was particularly impressed with the story of Nymeria, and Ysilla smiled to herself, satisfied.
She spoke to him like she had to her youngest nieces, and he flourished under the attention. She wondered if anyone had let him simply talk, and been a shoulder to lean on, before. She had a feeling she was the first, and so how could she ever judge his missteps? He would grow. He would find a path. She would ensure it.