Now in Theon’s quarters inside Winterfell, he’s making love to Ros.
Theon Greyjoy: Shh… Keep it down. You’re not supposed to be inside the castle walls.
Ros: I thought you were supposed to be an important person around here.
Theon Greyjoy: Important enough for the likes of you.
Ros: You’re not the only nobleman in my life, you know.
Theon Greyjoy: Who? the Imp? I’d call him half a nobleman.
Theon Greyjoy: Why should I be jealous?
Theon Greyjoy: Anyone with a few coppers in his pocket can own you for the night. What’s a dwarf like down below? I’ve always wondered.
Ros: Might surprise you.
Theon Greyjoy: Hmm?
Ros: He’s good with his fingers too. And his tongue.
Theon Greyjoy: Generous tipper. I guess gold is cheap for a Lannister.
Ros: You are jealous.
Theon Greyjoy: I’m a Greyjoy. We’ve been Lords of the Iron Islands for 300 years. There’s not a family in Westeros that can look down on us, not even the Lannisters.
Ros: And what about the Starks?
Theon Greyjoy: I’ve been Lord Stark’s ward since I was eight years old.
Ros: A “ward”, that’s a nice word for it. Your father rebelled against King Robert and if he does it again…
Theon grabs Ros’ neck from behind.
Theon Greyjoy: My father fought for the freedom of his people! What did your father do? Fucked a cook and whelped a whore.
Ros: You’re a very serious boy.
Theon Greyjoy: I’m not a boy.
Ros: Oh, yes you are. A serious boy, with a serious cock.
Theon Greyjoy: I don’t want to pay for it.
Ros: Then get yourself a wife.
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