The arrogance had been cut out of Theon a long time ago, along with other parts of him. Flayed skin. Missing parts. A body and soul that would never be what it once was. And yet what is dead may never die, it rises harder and stronger, and that is what Theon has tried to do in the years since he and Sansa escaped Ramsay's clutches.

It was not always graceful, but he kept trying. He was a slow learned, but he learned.

"I am. I betrayed you. I did not kill Bran or Rickon but I may as well have." Rickon died due to his actions all the same, if the stories he heard about the Battle at Winterfell were true.

"I killed Sir Roderik. I took Winterfell. My father would have never agreed to our plans and it seemed like there was no good choice to make. I know the what my decisions have cost. What they wrought."

Ramsay and Roose never would have gotten as much control of the North in the first place, had it not been for him. It is hard to resist the urge to curl into himself, into the parts that still believe he deserves to be Reek.