Through The Woods
Through The Woods
A mythology Thramsay fic inspired by this quote;
"Oh, but you must travel through those woods again and again... and you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time... But the wolf... the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once" — Emily Carroll
Theon’s village is plagued by a creature which lures young women to the forest, never to be seen again. Seeking fame and perhaps a chance to restore his pride, Theon alone ventures out in hopes of conquering this beast. For surely where others failed, he would succeed.
But these woods are not the ones of his youth; these are darker, more sinister. The very air beneath the leaves feels wrong. He finds help in his quest in the form of a man who lives in these woods. A man obviously keeping his own secrets, though what they could be, Theon is yet to find.
He will learn though… What it truly means to hunt. And what is required to guard himself from being hunted.
*Text below the cut. Small mention of a bloody knife.*
It had been perhaps twelve hours since he first set out when Theon felt a presence like a ghost at his back. The air itself seemed to still all of a sudden. There was no wind to cool the sweat on his brow. The density of the trees began to close in around him, their branches reaching down like gnarled fingers, as if hoping to snatch him.
“Need some help?”
Spinning around, his hand reflexively flew to his quiver in the same motion. His fingers stilled, resting atop one of the arrows. He froze, staring. Waiting.
A man stood before him, dressed in fitted black breeches and boots, with a deep red shirt—red like blood—which hung open across his pale chest, seemingly to account for the sheer girth of it. A dark smattering of chest hair trailed up to his throat. The hair on his head was black as night without stars or moon. Black as the shadows behind him. It hung below his broad shoulders.
But his eyes seemed to steal the breath from Theon’s lungs the same as if he had taken a plunge into the shrieking river. They watched him, meeting his stare.
Theon shivered; the bright blue of them glowed in stark contrast to the darkness of the forest. Like fallen stars. Stars that could sear the very flesh from his bones.
As if the man could read his thoughts, his wide lips curled up into the smallest of smiles. He was leaning up against a tree. A casual pose if ever there was one.
Were it not for the blood on his clothes and knife in his hand.
“My sincerest apologies for scaring you.”
The words were considerate enough, but the tone which danced at the edges of them, had Theon’s hackles rising despite the pounding of his heart and suspicion brewing in the back of his mind.
Theon’s arm dropped back to his side, his other gloved hand tightening around the handle of his bow.
“I was not scared,” he huffed, shifting his feet. “I was… startled.”
The smile grew on the other man’s face, exposing glinting white teeth. “Forgive me; my apologies for startling you.”
Where before there was perhaps the hint of mockery, now there was no mistaking it sliming the tone.
Theon glared fiercely. “I wouldn’t be so disrespectful if I were you,”
A dark brow raised. “No disrespect was meant, I assure you.” He pushed off the tree, taking two steps closer. Their proximity brought to light just how much wider and taller he was than Theon; he looked down at him as if observing a particularly interesting rock he had found lying in his path. “But might I inquire as to why you’re above being disrespected?”
The smell of him engulfed Theon like a cloud. A heady mix of spice, wet soil, greasy pork… and a metallic scent that had Theon’s stomach turning.
Theon’s eyes flitted between the knife in his hand and those eager eyes. He swallowed thickly. Suddenly his station in life seemed unimportant and weak when alone in the wilderness.
But no, he was an important person. And this low-life needed to learn just how beneath him he was.
The words somehow came to him as strong and firm as he intended for them to come out. “I’m a lord.”
Something sparked in the other man’s gaze, but it was gone so quickly that Theon almost thought he’d imagined it.
“A lord? Of course, I understand; you deserve your proper respect.” He sheathed his knife, blood and all, inclined his head and grasped his cloak in one hand before giving a small bow.
Yet again, despite the deference the action showed, the tone with which he spoke, even his motions, felt off.
“Indeed,” Theon sniffed, haughty and irritated for reasons he couldn’t fully place.
The man straightened with a playful smile. “Don’t you care to know my name?” He sounded petulant, like a child, despite his prodigious size, which only served to annoy Theon further.
He eyed him in a way that he hoped portrayed his disinterest. “Not particularly.”
The other man’s smile fell. “That’s very rude, you know.” Theon sensed a faint, venomous note
“A lord can afford to be rude to someone beneath his station.” Even as he said that, Theon’s eyes found the knife again. A warning flared to life in the depths of his being, like a candle deep within a cave. His foot inched backward beneath the sharp look of the other man. “What were you doing out here anyway?” He looked back up into the man’s face.
A thin smile met him. “Hunting.”
More Posts from Dauthdaert-the-orchid and Others
do u think jaime is the only one who (outside of wet nurses) picked tyrion up to comfort him? do u think he put tyrion on his shoulders to make him feel tall? did jaime run tyrions legs for him when he was having a bad pain day??? Do you think that, warped by cersei and tywin as he was, loves and cherishes his little brother? He doesn't see a monster that's his little buddy 🥺
Wait no wait wait hold on wait—
they are brothers. They love each other. They are best friends. They are the only ones who care about each other. Tyrion is the ONLY one who doesn’t want anything from Jaime, and Tyrion is the only one who truly loves Jaime. And Jaime doesn’t even know how much he loves Tyrion, as well.
They’re both emotionally crippled because of the trauma of their family. It doesn’t matter if you’re the Golden Child, First Born, Heir to Casterly Rock, or if you’re the monster who killed his mother and failed to uphold the family name. The burden is the same weight, and it’s so heavy that both of them were crushed beneath it.
I’m not crying. I’m fine. I’m fine. 🙂 I’m tot🙂ally 🙂 fin e.
Also yeah Jaime totally did physical therapy with tyrion sorry that’s canon georhshhe told me so
I will not rest until this fic gets its proper due. It is so good!!!🥺💞 If you love Thramsay, this is an absolute must read. And if you just want a good story about characters with questionable morals, spiciness, phenomenal characterization, stellar relationships, relatability and a fantastic premise… This has everything you need. Read it now, you will not be disappointed.
New chapter of my Blockbuster Thramsay AU ‘For Rent’ is up! ⭐️
https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/163471921
I’m not the most jazzed by this fic graphic but I found the Blockbuster employee training manual on the internet archives and I wanted to try and use it 🥺
I’m out of town for a few more days!! But as soon as I’m back I’ll be replying to comments~
Preview:
“You’re home early,” Ramsay comments as the younger man stalks over to the kitchen. The lack of greeting irks him, but interest in Theon being home so early overrides his desire to scold his pet.
A crisp ‘pop’ of a tab punching a hole in a can echoes from the adjacent room, and then Theon returns. Ramsay watches the muscles in his neck squirm as he takes a long, dramatic gulp of his beer. “I got fucking fired.”
Ramsay shoots up and practically skips over to Theon. His sea-blue eyes are brimming with salty tears—if they fall, he doubts he’ll be able to stop himself from licking them up. The redness of his waterline tells him that he’s already shed a few tears on the drive home. Maybe he’d even cried in the store; the mental image delights him.
It’s here!!!!
The forecast is looking lovely today with a 90% chance of a new update on my fic, Ellipsism, tomorrow. Bring an umbrella, it’s raining smut and angst.
Here’s a preview:
(text beneath the cut)
It’s a faraway sound, like coming up from underwater, familiar enough to jolt him out of wherever he is, louder, breaking through the surface.
The door creaks when it opens, even after all those weeks of not being used, that first footfall of what must be a boot on concrete. Theon wonders what the room would look like if he were able to see right now. He’s felt the coldness of it, can only envision the fluorescent lights that would accompany it, the dancing shadow moving across his floor as Ramsay stalks over, approaching him from behind.
Theon had moved his mattress, turned it over after staining it more with his filth, because if he’s to live down here, alone and forgotten, he might as well move the one thing he was able to. Positioned himself in the corner of the room, because somehow it felt safer there, warmer. Lays with his knees against his chest now, stifling another shiver that creeps along his spine.
Ramsay steps deliberately slow.
He’s in a daring mood.
Some book Ramsay, I have a sudden urgent to bite his belly
Hmmmmg, it was spectacular. Absolute must read. *Especially* if you love For Rent, as you should. But regardless, give it a go. You won’t be disappointed.
Happy (late) Valentine’s Day ♥️ Because Ramsay couldn’t be normal and celebrate the holiday on the actual day
https://archiveofourown.org/works/63107371
Preview text:
At the door, the girls ambush him; whatever meat had gotten on the pizza and the wings were making them especially rowdy. Theon’s grown used to the dogs knocking into him; he knew just how to brace his knees so that they don’t push him over in their excitement. When he’d first visited, their owner had made some flimsy attempt at calling them off; now he did no such thing.
It’s as if Theon was just another one of his bitches.
Toeing off his sneakers, he takes the few stairs up to the living room and finds The X Files playing on the TV. “Took you long enough,” Ramsay says in lieu of a greeting. “I was getting hungry,” he complains.
“You’re always hungry,” Theon reminds him, setting the boxes on the coffee table's edge. Ramsay shoots him an annoyed look, not much liking the response.
There’s a variety of things spread out over the wood. “What’s going on here?” Theon asks. There’s a packed bong with sparkling clean water, an obnoxious amount of candy, two champagne flutes and a VHS box 💞
Hooooooooooly shit. Simply stunning!! No words… Other than… Everyone must read this fic and see this art…!!!!Truly some of the best pieces of art around…🤩😍
Theon humping Ramsays stomach
https://archiveofourown.org/works/59310016/chapters/151263199?view_adult=true
(Love your work gendry! Big love forger and ever on the work 💚🙏🏻
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She/Her, mid 20s Could talk about Thramsay/Asoiaf all day. Well, could talk about lots of things all day, but we’ll go with those for now.If you’re under 18 and on my blog, I will literally call up your parental figures. See if I don’t. If dark things upset you, stay far away from here. Ye been warned.
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