Chapter Text
↳DYING EMBERS↲
He curls up in a corner, waiting. He doesn't dare make a sound. Behind him, Ramsay is humming, arranging things in order behind him. "We're going to play a game, pet," he calls merrily. Theon forces down a sob, but somehow he hears it anyway. "Why are you so upset? It's just a game, it doesn't mean anything. Come on, up you go, pet." The livid fury in his tone has faded away, but that only serves to frighten him more.
He staggers to his feet, unsure if he should say anything. Ramsay looks up at him, smiling widely. "My friends should be over anytime soon," he informs him. "You see, unlike me, they aren't as forgiving towards liars. In fact, I'd say that they have no tolerance at all for them." His voice drops as he loosens his tie, combing back his unruly hair. "Now, we'll play the game." He tosses the collar that he's holding at Theon, who barely catches it in time.
Theon stands there, holding the collar before Ramsay gives him a sharp glower. "I'll help you put it on," he snaps, and strides forward so quickly that Theon barely has time to open his mouth. Ramsay fists part of his shirt and yanks him towards him, sliding on the collar. "That's better. Where was I?" Theon tries to step backward, but Ramsay pulls him closer, staring down at his face. Not for the first time today, he wonders when Ramsay got so tall.
He didn't seem so imposing when Theon first met him on the bridge. Rather, he seemed harmless enough, with wet, slicked back hair from the rain and a casual smile that was enough to encourage Theon to follow him. He didn't even seem strong; it was only after about a week that Ramsay took off his shirt in front of him and Theon was finally aware of the strength that he'd been concealing. Even after that first time when Ramsay took him against the park bench, he didn't quite realize how strong his boyfriend was.
Now he knows.
His breaths come out in short gasps as the collar digs deeper into his neck and Ramsay refuses to let him go. Theon feels himself visibly wilting as Ramsay presses closer to him, almost grinding into him, utterly hard. "You still have that look in your eyes," Ramsay comments, right before he forces their lips together, biting savagely at Theon's mouth. "You still look like Theon, pet, and I know there is some pathetic remnant of him inside you. You wouldn't dare lie to me. You wouldn't try to trick me, pet." Theon has no idea what he's talking about and only quivers as Ramsay looks down at him. "I know it's not you. That wasn't you. It's not your fault, pet. You can't do this yourself, I'll help you weed him out, I'll help you stamp out those last bits of Theon Greyjoy."
But I am Theon Greyjoy, he wants to splutter. The look in Ramsay's eyes is enough to silence him, though. The demented spark in his eyes is back, as he presses himself closer to him.
When he pushes Theon away, his jaw is sore and his neck throbs painfully. "I can hear them upstairs, the clumsy brutes," Ramsay comments, smoothing his shirt. "You stay here, pet. I'll welcome them down."
When he strolls back up, he leaves the door open, and Theon can see the light shining down, calling him like a beacon. All he has to do is rush up and race upstairs to his room. Or he could lock the basement door, it would be essentially the same thing. For a moment, he seriously considers it, before he slumps against the wall, defeated. He can't believe that he actually entertained the idea of running away. He almost laughs at his pitiful imagination. He never even considered running outside - how can he? This is his home, there's nowhere else for him to go. Briefly, he thinks of Robb's home - with Jeyne now right besides him, in the kitchen, in the backyard, in the bedroom..
Ramsay appears at the doorway while he's in the middle of mentally kicking himself. He scrambles upright again, seeing Ramsay's malevolent smile ringed by four exactly the same. Damon Dance-for-Me, the only fair-haired of his friends, looks over him, giving him that stare that makes him feel as if he's stripping him naked inside his head. Alyn and Skinner simply sneer at him. "You haven't said hello, yet, where are your manners, pet?" he crows.
"S-sorry," he splutters, straightening up as best he can. Damon's eyes are fixed firmly on his collar, and his fingers twitch as he resists the urge to tug at it. "H-hello, Damon, S-Skinner, Alyn."
"Stop that damned stuttering," Ramsay snaps. Before Theon can apologize again, he holds up his hands, evidently planning on moving on. "Here, take this," he says simply, offering the blindfold towards Theon. He desperately tries to ignore the way Skinner's gaze bores straight into him as he lunges forwards and takes the blindfold. "Put it on."
They wait as Theon fumbles with the blindfold for a moment, trying to tie it, before Ramsay rips it away. "Let me do it." His hands are gentle, but he's undeniably eager as he tightens it and gives Theon a pat on the shoulder. He stands there, feeling acutely vulnerable. The only light in the basement is from upstairs, and the blindfold's cloth is thick, dark.
"I'm sorry," he whispers again, turning slightly, unsure of where Ramsay is. He gets a sharp blow to the head from the right in reward for his efforts, and he turns quickly there. "Ramsay, I'm sorry I lied to you." Say you're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry, and he won't do this. He'll understand. He won't -
"I can't hear you, pet," Ramsay breathes, as someone on his left gives a small laugh. He resists the urge to pull at his blindfold. They must be circling around him, then. Someone jabs him in the back and he stumbles forwards, a soft cry leaving his mouth. "You're so stiff. Let us loosen you up a little."
That's all the warning Theon gets before someone drives a fist into his back, and he almost falls to the ground, his hands scrabbling desperately for balance. He barely manages to get on his knees before someone grabs a handful of his hair, forcing his head up. "Ramsay - " he gets out, before the person pulls harshly. Tears threaten to stain the blindfold as he tightens his hands on the ground, trying to keep his composure. Trying to keep whatever dignity he pretended he had.
"He still talks too much," someone comments right in front of him. Damon. "How do you put up with this for so long?"
"Don't have a damn clue." Ramsay snorts.
Theon's heart rate is dangerously high. "Sorry," he repeats, his mind completely blank. "Sorry - please, I'm sorry - I - "
The person gripping his hair lets go and pushes him forwards, so that he sprawls onto the ground. The blindfold is wet, but his mouth is completely dry. He doesn't dare rise, so instead he lies there, hearing the soft footsteps of Ramsay as he circles around him. "Say please one more time." Theon lets out a choked sob and tries to push himself up, but drops down immediately when Ramsay's foot slams into his right hand. Pain seizes his body as he splutters out apologies again and again. He can hear Damon's soft laughter, Alyn's loud cackling.
He doesn't understand. Not about why Ramsay's punishing him - no, he understands that perfectly fine, even if he wishes it to be gone. What he doesn't get is why he had to invite his friends over.
"Do you have something to say, pet?"
Ramsay taps his foot, and Theon pushes himself up at an agonizingly slow pace. He resists the urge to cradle his bruised hand, and instead kneels at the direction of Ramsay's voice. Instead of another apology, what comes out is, "Why are they there?"
Silence.
He forges on, squinting his blurry eyes despite the fact that he can't see a thing. "What are they here for? Why are you making them do this? Why - "
Someone kicks him from behind and he falls face forward again, feeling tears involuntarily form. This time, he doesn't get up as Damon says lightly, "Are you questioning us now?"
"Ramsay always shares his toys," adds in Skinner, his sneer almost evident in his voice. "Do you think you're different from those bitches he brings home? Do you think you're special? Just because he hasn't set his dogs on you yet, do you think we can't fuck you into the dirt?"
Theon barely registers any of the other taunts that Ramsay's friends add in after that - his head throbs from what Skinner pointed out. He's brought home other girls?
But I've been living with him for over a year. He hasn't done anything - and he wouldn't -
Suddenly, so slowly he barely registers it, everyone falls silent - and at the same time, Theon becomes aware of the fact that Ramsay hasn't said a single thing since Theon asked the question. Someone shifts on his right, before he hears Damon say in a surly tone, "What's that look for, eh, Rams?"
"Get out."
"Ramsay?"
He curses violently and throws something at Skinner, who muffles a protest. "Get out. When was the last time I had to repeat myself twice, boys?"
They file out one by one as Theon lies there, shivering, knowing bruises must be forming over his body. Despite trying to keep his mind blank, he can't help but feel amazed at his boyfriend's reaction. The past few times when his friends had visited, he'd never kicked them out like that - and certainly not for Theon. What changed?
He hears Ramsay stalk in a wide circle around him, pacing closer. "Don't think you were forgiven," he says sharply, and Theon feels the tiniest bit of hope inside of him wilt. "I haven't forgotten your insolence." Theon tries to nod, but when Ramsay kneels down besides him he forget how to breathe. "You were this close to playing the game." He draws his words out slowly, setting a light hand on the back of Theon's neck and pressing gently.
"What changed?" he manages to whisper, and Ramsay simply laughs, the same laugh he used to give so freely before things began to shift. Ramsay begins to run his hands slowly through his hair, and for a few minutes, Theon remains there with his cheek pressed to the dirty ground and his whole body on a stiff, razor edge.
Finally, Ramsay kneels down even closer, so that he can feel the heat radiating from him. Then, with his lips brushing oh so gently against his ear, he whispers, "Because you reminded me of one very important detail." The lightness fades from his voice until he's steely again, focused with a piercing intent.
"You're mine, Reek."
He doesn't even get any time to wonder if he's misheard him - Reek, after all, is nothing similar to Theon - because Ramsay grabs him by the arms and pulls him up, dragging him back upstairs. He nearly slips several times, causing Ramsay to snort in frustration and rip his blindfold away. Theon blinks against the light as Ramsay pulls him further into the house, finally letting go of him once they're in the bedroom.
As Theon stumbles to a stop and braces himself against the bed, Ramsay flicks on the lights and cocks his head at him. "I'm actually surprised you managed to ask a meaningful question," he muses, as Theon sits shakily onto the bed. He isn't even processing half of what Ramsay is saying - his mind is shouting in joy right now, saying, no torture - no humiliation - no Damon - no Skinner - no Alyn. "I was expecting for you to keep whimpering and saying the word please. So - I suppose, in even the stupidest of creatures, there are sometimes flashes of intelligence."
This, Theon gets, and he stifles the indignation he feels at Ramsay calling him stupid, yet again. "I should thank you," he practically purrs, and this is as much of a shock to Theon as one of his kicks. "You made me realize that what's mine is mine, and isn't for others to share." When he finally surges towards him, Theon barely manages to hide his recoil.
"After all... Reek is Ramsay's and Ramsay is Reek's."
"Who's Reek?" Theon manages to rasp.
An inhuman glower appears on his boyfriend's face and Ramsay pushes a furious hand down at him. He falls backwards onto the bed as Ramsay glares down at him, his arms caging him in. "Fucking stupid shit," he rages, and Theon shrinks down to practically nothing as he backhands him twice on both sides of his face. "Can't do anything right - YOU DON'T KNOW A DAMN THING."
His breathing slows as he seems to refocus, his rage dropping down a notch. Ramsay leans down and drapes himself over Theon, kissing him deeply, pulling at his lips until it stings and blood drips down his chin - while he lies there, too terrified to respond at all. "Remember your name," he coos, like a lullaby. Then harder - "Remember your name." Then harsher - "Remember your name."
"R-Reek?"
He doesn't understand, he can't understand. "I'm - Reek?" He amends his statement hastily as he senses, rather than sees, Ramsay fisting the bedsheets under his hands in frustration. "I'm.. Reek." They're both silent as he manages to meet Ramsay's gaze, and it's a mixture of satisfaction, lust, and anger. "Ramsay, please - what do you mean - " he manages to get out, before Ramsay curses again.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up."
"Ramsay - "
"That's your name, pet, your name - Reek. Remember your name - remember your name."
So that's where it's been leading up to.
He remembers the past few months, where the Theon's faded away into pet and his voice - his identity - crumpled slowly under Ramsay's. And now he has a new name. Reek. It's not even one that makes sense - it's not even one he can explain away. Pet stood for sweetheart, or some other endearment - at least he hoped it did.
Reek, on the other hand...
"Ramsay, I don't - " he stutters. "What do you mean, I don't understand - "
Ramsay visibly forces himself not to slam his fist into Theon's face, and he swallows with an effort. "Stupid pet," he says, this time muttering to himself. "You're never going to learn, aren't you?" A jagged smile. "It won't do any good to repeat myself." A slow blink of his gray eyes. "I'll just have to fuck it into you."
Theon lurches upright by reflex, but Ramsay is already a step ahead of him. Without hesitating, he grabs Theon and forces him back down. After his initial reaction, Theon forces himself to lie still, but the damage is done. If Ramsay intended on being the slightest bit gentle with him before, he certainly won't now.
It takes far longer than it usually does. He goes slow, pulling Theon's clothes away with deceptive care, when all he has to do is look up and see the smoldering fire that's threatening to break free and burn everything down. Ramsay even loosens his grip on him as he thrusts slowly into Theon, keeping his nails from digging too tightly into him. At one point, Theon tries to stare past Ramsay's face, up at the ceiling and past, to the sky, but Ramsay grabs his chin and forces him to maintain eye contact.
If anyone were watching, they might say the two of them were making love.
The moment Theon lets a soft moan slip from his lips, Ramsay's eyes light up. Immediately, he begins to thrust harder, deeper - his nails now leaving red shaped marks. "What's your name?" he pants out, working Theon to hardness as he drives him against the mattress. "What's your name?"
He takes too long to answer, and Ramsay lets go, gripping his throat instead, with one warm, burning hand and pressing hard. "It rhymes with freak," he hints, the laughter evident in his voice, pleased with thinking of the rhyme.
Theon feels spots swimming at his vision as he weakly raises and drops his arms and manages to open his mouth, stuttering out: "My- my name is - " before his vision goes black.
When he wakes, there is a throbbing pain that goes deep inside of him, and his mouth drips with Ramsay's come. The bitterness is enough to shock him fully awake and he jerks up, only to realize that his hands are tied with a coarse rope that rubs against his skin. Theon almost spits to the side before he meets Ramsay's flat eyes across the room and swallows, thinking twice.
His throat feels tight, closed up - his hips pulse with pain - and he aches everywhere. "You - you fucked me, didn't you?" Theon asks, trying not to act petulant. It's true that they have sex daily - but this has never happened before. The feeling of violation from being choked is magnified ten times over.
"I waited for you," snaps Ramsay. "What was I supposed to do after you refused to get up after a minute?" He smirks, gesturing towards his lips. "You have some on the sides, by the way."
Theon strains against the ropes, trying to avoid his stare. He's still angry. He must be. Apologize - say sorry -
"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," he finally says, swallowing several times to try to get the taste out of his mouth. How did Ramsay even manage to fuck my mouth while I was unconscious?
To his astonishment, Ramsay waves a hand dismissively. "The past is past - forgive, forget," he shrugs. "Why don't we, ah.. turn over a new leaf?"
A nervous laugh escapes his mouth. "What are these.. restraints, then?"
"I thought you might feel tired, Reek, after round two." Ramsay jumps to his feet, dusts himself off, and then settles himself over Theon. "We both know how insatiable you can be - so those are to keep you from spending too much of your energy thrashing around."
Round two?
Ramsay presses himself against him, their foreheads touching. It would be comforting, almost, but for the fact that he's draped so tightly. "We could just go to sleep," he breathes, and it sounds so perfectly right - so perfectly wrong. The whole situation made his head spin. There is no explanation that he can think of for Ramsay to go from deciding to torture him to.. fucking him. And Reek - why Reek?
"Your head isn't meant for thinking, pet," Ramsay admonishes. "Close your eyes. Go to sleep."
He can barely breathe with Ramsay crushing him. And he knows he won't get anywhere with the rate he's going at.
So he tries again.
"Please, Ramsay - I know you shouldn't have to say anything - " he manages to wheeze out. "But please, I just need to know - "
Ramsay moves, turning so that they're lying side by side. Theon can feel the blood drying underneath him, but he says nothing, waiting for Ramsay to speak.
"You're not Theon Greyjoy, are you?"
"W-what?"
"Don't stutter, pet. Well, are you?" Ramsay gazes up at the ceiling, his breathing steady and even. If Theon felt optimistic, he could have thought his boyfriend was about to fall asleep.
Is that even the word for what they are now? In his past, in the foolish hopes of him and Robb getting together, he'd never imagined that Rob would forcefully brand him - or fuck him while he was unconscious - or leave him alone in the basement for days. But he's my boyfriend. He's all I've got.
"You don't want to be that sniveling, pathetic joke of a person, do you, pet? That weak Greyjoy with the false bravado that I found smoking and half high? The false Stark who chased after his 'brother' for years, only to realize finally that no one in his foster family cared for him? Is that who you want to be?"
Ramsay tilts his head slightly, his eyes boring into Theon's side. He can't bring himself to meet his gaze. Suddenly, wildly, he has the miserable thought that he would rather be locked in the basement than being next to Ramsay in the warm, soft bed. Theon has to be doing something horrible, to have such a sense of wrongness inside - because despite the disgusting images Ramsay has painted in his mind, the idea of losing his name - of being renamed - bites and gnaws at him without faltering.
"No."
"That's why," says Ramsay, and he goes back to looking up at the ceiling, a half smile on his face. "Who would you be, without Theon Greyjoy? Nothing. You should thank me, pet, for this. You wouldn't even exist without me."
Theon feels a shudder rush through him as Ramsay finds his hand and laces his fingers through his. But for now, his boyfriend seems content to stay quiet, ignoring any transgressions that he's committing.
For hours, he lies there, neither of them falling asleep. But soon, exhaustion wins out, and not even the bitter taste in his mouth and the lingering fear is enough to pull him back.
As he drifts away, someone in the distance is whispering.
"Reek, Reek: it rhymes with weak."
↳END OF PART ONE: POWER AND CONTROL↲
↳COMING SOON - PART TWO: THE DEVIL WITHIN↲