Chapter Text
Robb had always been fond of strays.
There was a dog or two, turned over to the local shelter after a lot of pleading and crying and tired parental negotiations, and all sorts of forest critters— squirrels, birds, bugs that Catelyn would find in jars hidden under Robb’s bed. The only ones that stuck were, of course, the puppies, a whole litter found whimpering in the cold next to their dead mother. Catelyn had been in favor of sending those to the shelter, too, but even she had conceded that the cosmic significance of a puppy for each Stark child was too perfect to pass up. And so the puppies stayed, quickly growing into huge dogs that tracked mud in the house and shed everywhere. At that point, it was too late: to separate the Starks from their new best friends would have been tantamount to murder.
Theon was different, but no less a stray, at least in Robb’s eyes: it had been midway through year four when the stranger had arrived, an outcast by default like any other new kid. He was taller than the others in their class (older, Robb would soon learn, and immediately defensive about the fact that he had been held back twice) and always sat with his shoulders hunched and his eyes narrowed, like he was anticipating an attack.
Barely two weeks in, he’d gotten in a fight with another boy. It was after school, and Robb was trotting down the front steps, bookbag in hand, when he heard a loud clang from the garbage bins. There Theon was, slamming their classmate against the fence. Both of them were panting from their squabble, although neither looked particularly injured— despite being a good half a head taller than the other boy, Theon was built like a twig and didn’t seem to have much of an advantage.
Robb ran over, dropping his bag on the ground to pull the two apart. Neither of them spoke, just glared at each other, trying to catch their breath.
“See you, Robb,” the other boy huffed, taking his chance to duck under Robb’s arm and scamper off.
Theon glared after him, then jerked his arm out of Robb’s grasp. “Why did you do that?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Stop us from fighting.”
Robb, genuinely lost for words, furrowed his brow. “Dunno. Why were you fighting?”
“He called my dad a loser cunt.” Theon turned away and scooped up his own bag, discarded by the bushes. “Told me I should go back home and stop stinking up this place.”
Intuiting that he was missing context behind the insults, Robb kicked awkwardly at the ground.
“He’s stupid anyway,” Theon said fiercely. “Like any of this is my choice. I would go back if I could.”
“Where?”
“The Iron Islands.” For the first time, a hint of warmth entered Theon’s tone. Answering Robb’s unasked question, he added, “I got sent here ‘cause my dad got into some law problems. But my mum is still out there, and my sister. I’m going back soon.” Even he didn’t sound convinced, but Robb stayed silent. However, it seemed like Theon didn’t have more to say on the matter, instead scooping Robb’s bag off the ground and holding it out as an offering, which Robb gladly accepted.
“Bye,” Theon mumbled anticlimactically, turning away.
“Wait,” Robb blurted out, “If you live that way, we can walk home together.” He’d already missed the bus anyway.
Theon hesitated, looking unsure, but after a moment he nodded, dark shaggy locks bouncing. “Yeah, okay.”
The walk home began in amiable silence, but Robb soon learned a few new things about Theon— like that seafaring was the lifeblood of the Iron Islands, and that Theon wanted to be a sea captain when he grew up (“I would want to be a pirate, but they aren’t real, you know,” he told Robb, with an air of lofty superiority). That his sister was named Yara, and she was allowed to remain on the Islands while Theon had been sent away because “she’s five years older than me, which I guess means she’s grown-up enough, even though she’s also a kid. It’s really unfair”. A little bit about his dad’s mysterious law problems, although Robb had the impression that Theon didn’t understand them much better himself. Something to do with an oil spill and his dad’s “really big and important” company. “Some people died,” Theon told him, with a sudden tremor in his voice, and Robb didn’t press the issue.
The next day’s walk was cheerier, with Robb bringing Theon up to speed with his various siblings and, of course, their dogs. Theon seemed particularly impressed that Robb was the oldest sibling. “I’m the youngest, I always wished I was the oldest,” he confessed. “Must be nice, you get to be the one bossing them around.” Robb wondered how such angst could come from a family of two siblings, but as usual, he sensed some kind of concealed pain within Theon that he didn’t dare risk inciting.
It went on like that for a couple weeks. Robb was fascinated by his new friend, deeply impressed despite being a little scared— not by Theon himself, but the way he spoke about his life with such gravitas, like he’d been through hell and back. Like he’d faced demons Robb couldn’t even imagine— and Robb could only concede that he probably had. The large and well-furnished Stark house, brimming with golden light and family chatter, had never seemed so removed from the rest of the world as it did when Robb was with Theon, who was all sharp edges and murky depths.
Robb didn’t suggest taking the bus, and Theon never brought it up.
It was another ordinary afternoon when they rounded the corner to Theon’s squat house, with its overgrown bushes and peeling paint, and Robb stopped on the sidewalk so they could say their goodbyes. Oddly, this time Theon seemed hesitant, dragging his feet as he turned toward the driveway
“What’s wrong?”
“Um…” Theon bit his lip. “It’s my uncle’s car. He’s not usually here.” Robb leaned slightly to peer over his friend's shoulder to see that indeed, a car was parked in the driveway where he couldn’t remember seeing one before: it was a dark teal van, probably older than the two of them combined. He blinked curiously at his friend, missing a piece of the puzzle: Theon had told him little of the uncle he lived with.
“He’s kind of weird, really religious,” Theon mumbled. “He only took me in as a favor to my dad. And he’s usually gone on long trips on his boat. He’s not supposed to be back yet.”
The two stood in a moment of awkward silence, neither sure how to proceed. Finally, Robb’s face lit up with a brilliant idea. “Come to my house!”
“What— are you sure?”
“Yeah, Mum always makes dinner, and you can meet Grey Wind! And all my siblings!”
“Well, I’ve met Jon,” Theon muttered under his breath. Robb’s cousin-adopted-as-a-brother, who was in the same year as the other two, had immediately disliked Theon, and despite trading few words the animosity had only grown between them.
Robb touched Theon’s arm. “Please?”
And that was how the newest stray ended up sitting at the Stark table, wedged between Robb and Arya (much to the latter’s irritation). Theon had never looked more like one of the scrawny puppies Robb had once lugged home in a cardboard box— the same no-longer-puppies that now wove through legs and bumped against the table, pouncing on any specks of dinner that fell their way. He stared at Catelyn’s perfectly-roasted chicken with hungry eyes, then devoured it with equal fervor, barely managing to choke down his bite to apologize, red-faced, when Ned chuckled, “Now there’s a growing lad!”
Catelyn cast uneasy but pitying looks at the newcomer; Jon continued his wall of stony silence; tiny Bran and even tinier Rickon watched Theon with curious admiration; Arya acted as prickly toward him as she did to any of her brothers; Sansa was quiet and flustered at the prospect of a strange boy in their home. It was all, strangely enough, instantly normal, as if they’d sat down just like this a thousand times before.
Later, dinner was over and the table cleared, with Robb volunteering to help his mother with the dishes and Theon ending up beside him at the sink by default. They stood in awkward silence as Robb finished up, an odd sense of destiny clouding their heads.
Finally, Robb was the one to make the leap. “Want to stay over?”
That night, Theon huddled on Robb’s bedroom floor wrapped in a spare blanket, with a pillow tucked under his head. And for years to come, they would sleep just like that more nights than not, and everything was right with the world.