Post by Theon on Aug 22, 2011 22:05:02 GMT
NAME: Theon Júnssonur.
NICKNAMES: He goes by the name Theo Johnson in the human world because it’s just easier for people to say, generally. Other than that, Theon has no nicknames, at least not any that he acknowledges. He has, however, earned himself a title of sorts; over the years he has come to be called the Wolf, a name he wears proudly like a badge of honour.
RACE: Werewolf; turned.
OCCUPATION: Rogue; fighting instructor. Theon runs classes in different establishments around the city on different days of the week, and he even runs night classes. He has advanced classes for more experienced students who can handle simple weaponry, but Theon is very particular about this class and who exactly can attend.
GENDER: Male.
SKIN COLOUR: Caucasian but with European colouring that betrays his origins.
NATIONALITY: Icelandic.
AGE: 511, though Theon looks to be in his early twenties, physically.
CLOTHING: Theon was born into a powerful Icelandic clan but he had no real wealth or standing, his clothing always reflected his status and that has not changed over the years. Theon is comfortable in things he can move in, practicality means a great deal and he will not wear anything that cannot be easily replaced or repaired. Theon’s dress sense is understated, but naturally and effortlessly so, he does not draw attention or try too hard, he would much prefer to be comfortable and ready for anything rather than seen as fashionable or stylish. Black and white are the dominant colours in his wardrobe, as are browns and other natural shades. These are the sorts of colours he would have worn in the past and old habits really do die hard sometimes. To a trained eye, it might be clear that he is from another time, the things he wears together are reminiscent of years gone by and there is frequently something a little old-fashioned about him to the eyes of most mortals. When working, Theon wears clothes that he can move in, materials that allow him to breathe and keep cool even after exertion. His footwear is tough and worn, boots that have been broken in are the norm, though at work he wears sneakers and at home he can quite often be found barefoot.
HEIGHT: 5’10.
WEIGHT: 172lbs.
TATTOOS: None.
PIERCINGS: None.
JEWELLERY: Around his neck at all times on a pewter chain is a pendant fashioned out of the same metal; the pendant is the Wolf’s Hammer. The wolf was revered in Norse culture and the pendant itself is a symbol of Strength and Virility.
BODY MODIFICATIONS: At Theon’s right side there is a scar beneath his ribs from an old wound that almost claimed his life, and there is another to the left side of his stomach. Much like Svana, Theon bears the scars of his turning over his shoulder; they are fainter than many bitten wolves’ but another lycanthrope could easily identify them on sight.
WOLF FORM.
BUILD: Theon’s wolf form is formidable and undeniably intimidating, physically, muscular and large in size, very obviously a creature built for close combat and one which can do a lot of damage if given the opportunity. Capable of standing and moving as a biped as well as a quadruped, Theon has a wide range of motion and manoeuvrability, he can bound around and evade an opponent but if he gets in close and engages he can easily break bones and tear flesh. When moving around on all fours, he is very tall at the shoulders thanks to his long forelegs that in turn give him a lot of range in a fight whilst standing on his hind legs. He has a long muzzle packed with strong, sharp fangs and long fingers on his forepaws, shaped more like hands, tipped with razor-sharp claws that could effortlessly lay a man open. He is broad and tall, packed with muscle and while that does make him slower than smaller, lighter wolves, it also makes him harder to take down if he gets in close enough to start attacking. His head is very much like a real wolf’s and his ears narrow to tips, though they can sometimes be lost in his wild, feral mane of spiky hair that is thick enough to protect his spine and neck from questing claws or blades. Theon’s wolf form has a tail, though it is somewhat short and thick, and doesn’t seem to serve much of a purpose.
HEIGHT: 8’11 bipedal; 4’9 quadrupedal.
WEIGHT: 317lbs.
HAIR: Theon is covered in a thick and full pelt of black fur that is actually rather long, especially around the throat and the back of his neck to protect him in combat. It covers his entire body, from head to tail, and is black in colour, though under lights it might appear more charcoal with silver threads throughout.
EYES: Silver-blue, with ice-blue pupils.
DEFINING MARKS: Wolfen head, bushy tail, long hands and spiky mane.
PACK.
PACK: None.
POSITION: None.
TERRITORY: None.
HAIR.
LENGTH: Considered long for a man’s, Theon’s hair falls just above his shoulders, framing his face perfectly and protecting the back of his neck respectively, as well as completely covering his ears. It falls in his eyes occasionally, though it doesn’t give him as much trouble as it perhaps should, given its length, no doubt because of its style. Theon has kept his hair more or less the exact same length, give or take, for hundreds of years, and sees no reason to change.
STYLE: The first thing people tend to notice about Theon’s hair is that it is curly, and naturally so. The curls are loose and messy, consistent all around his head and start close to the roots; his hair is very thick as a result and there honestly isn’t much Theon can do with it other than rake it out of his face and hope for the best, not that he would want to do much more with it.
COLOUR: Black.
FACIAL HAIR.
LENGTH: Theon’s facial hair is a few millimetres at most, definite shadowing stubble that defines his jaw and the rest of the lower part of his face around his mouth, making him look older than he would if he were clean-shaven. The length is pretty consistent at all times of the year, trimmed to keep it neat and consciously kept the same over long periods.
STYLE: It is clear to look at him that Theon’s facial hair is intentional, not a result of laziness or a complete disregard for his outward appearance; he trims his facial hair and keeps it short but visible, a constant shadow that makes him seem that much more mature. Without the facial hair he would look much younger than he already does.
EYES.
COLOUR: Brown, though at times they have faint traces of hazel throughout.
ODDITIES: Like all werewolves Theon has the ability to change his eye colour at will, from that of his human side to that of his wolf. This can be done to tease or taunt or intimidate, or perhaps even out of playfulness, but it is also possible that heightened emotional states will trigger the shift, such as when he is angered or spooked, wounded or otherwise provoked.
PERSONALITY: When weighed against Svanhildur, some might say that Theon is soft, when really he can be just as hard and stubborn, just as cool and ruthless. It is true that Theon wears his heart on his sleeve more than Svana, he shows his compassion and regret readily, he never had to learn how to bottle or cage such emotions to keep the outside world from perceiving him as less than what he ought to be, and he has absolutely no problem standing up for what he believes is right. Theon is as fierce as any warrior, he is noble and honourable, he is a man who holds true to the morals with which he was raised and he is as loyal and dependable as a man can be. When you earn Theon’s loyalty and respect, he will fight for you until the bitter end, he always holds true to his word and he might even fit the bill of a perfect gentleman at times; he is the type to hold doors open for other people and help a stranger in need. Part of why he does what he does for a living is because he believes everyone has the right to know how to defend themselves; Theon has never been able to simply stand by and watch another person be bullied or beaten when they are outnumbered and without allies.
When Theon enters into a conflict, he sees it through until the end, as fierce and formidable as any warrior. He is very strong-willed and has survived a number of times when by all rights he should have lost his life; he is stubborn and determined, driven by the desire to overcome the odds and triumph to whatever end. He does not necessarily become obsessive or irrational when it comes to pursuing a goal but he does not let go easily, he bears his grudges like all of his people and he is as proud as anyone of Norse origin. His pride is not as passionate or potent as Svana’s but it cannot be denied; he remembers his homeland fondly and he still speaks in his mother tongue, he believes in the Gods and adheres to his faith and religion. He will always think of Iceland as home and while he speaks English fluently and even has an impressive and natural accent, nothing will ever change where he came from or how he was raised.
The only point of confusion in Theon’s life, as has been the case for hundreds of years now, is Svanhildur Óðinsdóttir. Ask Theon how he feels about her and the answers will vary depending on the day and just how recently they fought; on some days he will praise her subtly and tell others she is a difficult woman to understand, but has her heart in the right place, but at other times he will say she is a cold, hard woman and it is a wonder he has been able to tolerate her as long as he has. The truth is that Theon still does not know how he feels about Svana, even after all this time. She has saved his life many times in the years since they first met and he has returned the favour without hesitation. He obviously cares for her enough to keep her from harm but at the same time he still harbours feelings of resentment and frustration, she truly is a difficult woman to understand, and oftentimes tolerate, and Theon cannot deny that he has come very close to losing his temper with her on more than one occasion. Even with all that lingering animosity and the frequency with which they -- at least figuratively -- come to blows, Theon continues to accept, tolerate, and even defend Svanhildur and very likely will do so for a long time to come. There are conflicting emotions involved, each as powerful and confusing as the next. The best way to sum up their connection is with one word: complicated.
WEAKNESSES: Werewolves are fiercely allergic to the metal silver and Theon is no exception. In proximity the metal weakens and nauseates him, on contact it burns and can even leave scars, but once it enters the bloodstream it will poison his body; if it were to reach his lungs, heart, or brain, the infection would claim his life. Because of his age Theon is no longer commanded by the lunar cycle and as a result the full moon has no effect on him, save for perhaps making him that little bit more tense and restless because of the animal within him.
Physically Theon was lucky enough in his mortal life that he escaped lasting injury and as such he has no lingering aches and pains from years gone by. His weaknesses are mental and emotional as opposed to physical. Theon is compassionate and cannot stand by while someone is abused or bullied, he will readily put himself between a victim and a tormentor, regardless of whether they are a friend, a stranger, or even someone he should consider an enemy. His desire to defend and help the helpless makes him something of a bleeding heart in the eyes of others, but in truth Theon was raised to be a warrior, someone who would stand up for others and that is a lesson he truly took to heart and has never been able to shake. He has never seen any reason to do so.
Theon’s biggest weakness, regardless of whether or not he acknowledges the fact, is Svanhildur and her wellbeing. They quarrel and they clash and sometimes he cannot even stand to look at her, let alone be in the same room, but Theon would still leap to her defence in a heartbeat. She is not some frail damsel who needs to be protected or defended, she is ruthless and fearless and was raised to be a warrior in her own right, and yet Theon would still be at her back ready to protect her in an instant. Fate has drawn them together time and time again over the many years they have known one another and in a way they are bonded. The quickest way to push Theon to true anger and aggression is to threaten or endanger Svanhildur, and he has already shown on more than one occasion that he does not always think before he acts in such heated situations.
ABILITIES: Theon has the same abilities that all of his kind share: heightened strength, speed, endurance, pain threshold, healing factor, agility, grace, and awareness; he can leap to, from, and across great distances without causing harm to himself; his senses are raised far beyond the human spectrum; and of course, given his race, he is able to transform from wolf to man and back again with ease and without pain. Because of his age, Theon is an experienced wolf and the transformation process is swift and smooth for him now, he can switch between forms readily and ably, save of course for when he is gravely injured and he simply does not have the strength to hold his wolf at the surface any longer.
Theon was trained to be a warrior from a young age and as a result is a formidable fighter. He can wield a sword and a spear, an axe and a dagger, all with equal levels of lethal efficiency and he can turn other objects into weapons if the need arises; in the time that he was raised, warriors were trained to be resourceful, and Theon was no exception, able to turn his shield on another man and even kill him with it if he managed to strike hard and fast enough. He can fire a bow, but it was never his best skill and he always preferred close combat. Even without weapons of any kind, Theon is a powerful and tough opponent, he can use another man’s weight and momentum against them, he has quick reflexes and he trusts to his instincts in a combat situation. It is no wonder, really, that he chose to teach others how to defend themselves, even if many of the moves he teaches might be considered outdated or unusual in the present day. Though he hasn’t needed to rely on the skill for many years now, Theon is an experienced horseman; in recent years he has learned how to drive a car in order to get about, but in all honesty he would prefer to travel on horseback.
English is not Theon’s first language despite his fluency in all its forms; his first language is Icelandic and he is just as proficient and fluent in Old Norse. When spending time with Svanhildur he tends to switch to their native tongue, sometimes even when they are not alone. Like his companion, Theon knows a handful of other languages; given the amount of travelling they did it is only natural that they learned how to speak with the natives. Theon also knows how to cook, build fires, hunt and prepare his own food, and survive in the wild for weeks at a time if the need arises.
WEAPONS: Theon himself is a weapon, even when unarmed; he can break bones and cause a considerable amount of damage in hand-to-hand combat. Put a blade in his hands and he knows exactly how to use it, whether it be to disarm, disable, or kill. Obviously he has his wolf form at his disposal and he has been a lycanthrope long enough to know how to use not only his claws and teeth, but also his mass and agility against an opponent. The only weapon Theon keeps is his sword, which has been in his possession for many years; it is one of the only things he brought with him from Iceland and it is something he will never part with. The sword is kept in his and Svana’s home and is kept in perfect condition for whenever it might be needed. The runes that run up and down both sides of the blade were engraved years ago by Svanhildur and are meant to invoke the strength of the Gods and also bring protection to the wielder of the weapon.
PRIZED POSSESSIONS: Theon did not bring much in the way of personal possessions with him from Iceland; he did not have much to begin with, given his lack of wealth and standing, but what he has managed to keep hold of means a great deal to him. Naturally his sword is prized and he would never willingly part with it, and he is equally attached to the chain and pendant around his neck; it not only holds sentimental value, but it has actual meaning, and Theon is never seen without it around his neck. Svanhildur herself, while not an object or even really Theon’s in any way, is considered prized; he will fight for her, tooth and claw, he has killed to protect her and will continue to do so, despite the fact that she oftentimes makes him want to put his fist through a wall.
HOME(S): Theon shares a home with Svanhildur Óðinsdóttir in the suburbs of Los Angeles.
HISTORY: Theon, son of Júníus, was not highborn; his family had never had any particular standing in their clan to the North East of Iceland. Theon was the first of two children, born four years before his sister Yrsa who took after their mother, Ólena, very early on. Despite being a little lady from the get go, Yrsa looked up to her older brother, idolised him in her own way as he worked with his father to provide for the family. It was his father who arranged for Theon to become a squire to the lord of a noble family, a powerful and proud man by the name of Ađalsteinn. Theon was fifteen years old when he began to work for his lord and his life changed drastically and quickly; he had purpose and responsibilities, he had been set on a path that could very well see him gaining a position of power all of his own within their clan and Theon was grateful for it. He worked hard, never complained, and did everything he could to please his lord, a man he quickly came to respect. Ađalsteinn was a fierce warrior who had seen his fair share of battles and he saw fit to train his squire in the ways of war. Not only was it expected of Theon to know how to defend his lord in battle but Ađalsteinn wanted the boy to know how to fend for himself as well. He would not have just any boy at his side, he always said. Theon was expected to know how to wield a sword and a shield, to ride a horse and stand proud and tall on the field of battle when the time came that he should go to war with his lord.
The time came when Theon was already considered a man; he had never claimed a life with his blade but he had served his lord well in the time before conflict broke out between his own clan and another to the West. They fought over land and it quickly escalated into full-scale war. The life of Theon’s father was claimed in the clash a few months before Ađalsteinn was called upon to ride into battle. Theon rode with him, an accomplished young man already on his way to being recognised as a tough and capable warrior. The battle was bloody and brutal but not at all when they had expected. Theon saw things on that field that would haunt his thoughts and his dreams for months to come, flashing eyes in the encroaching darkness and wicked fangs that tore into the throats of men on all sides, enemy and ally alike. True to his role, Theon fought by his lord’s side, protecting Ađalsteinn as best he could, even going so far as to put himself between his master and a vicious blow; the blade tore into the squire’s side and brought him to his knees. Ultimately his sacrifice did nothing to save his lord but it might very well have spared him from a worse fate at the hands of the creatures who swept across the battlefield. Even as his lord fell beneath hacking blows, Theon collapsed into the snow and lost consciousness.
Hours passed and the battlefield went still and quiet, the bodies were scattered everywhere and the snow was red with blood and gore. A group of men, led by a single woman, stepped onto the field and at their leader’s command began to search the bodies. Theon was the only man still breathing and the woman had her men dig him out of the snow in which he would have frozen to death. As she worked to revive him, she ordered her men to continue searching the field. When Theon came around it was to the sight of a woman whose hair was so pale it seemed as white as the snow around them, but he did not recognise her. She had already recognised him, though, by the insignia of the wolf he wore to represent his lord’s house. When questioned, Theon managed to tell the woman that everyone was dead, terrible creatures with glowing eyes and sharp teeth had swept in from the darkness and torn through the men. The woman’s men returned to her side with a bloodied and battered helmet. It was then that Theon learned her name: Svanhildur.
The group made to leave the battlefield, and Svanhildur ordered her men to bring Theon with them. In no condition to fight, still weak from the loss of blood and the bitter chill that had settled into his bones, Theon went along with them, dipping in and out of consciousness as they wrapped him in furs and strapped him to a horse. It was the sight of the glowing eyes moving out of the shadows as night crept in that kept him awake as the group made their escape, chased and tormented as they were by the same creatures that had decimated two armies. Once they were safely inside the boundaries of Svanhildur’s village, the creatures disappeared, melting back into the darkness like ghosts.
Theon found himself a prisoner of war, and though he was not mistreated he was still confined to a tent and kept under guard. When he was better able to move around, he was restrained to prevent his escape. Though he heard her name frequently passed between the guards who kept watch over him, Theon did not see Svanhildur again for some time. His thoughts were with his own people, his mother and his sister especially. Had the creatures doubled back and claimed his village? He wanted to go home, to be with his family and protect them as was his place now that his father was gone but he had to wait for the right time. The one time he did see Svanhildur before his opportunity arose was when she stepped in to spare him after some of her men dragged him from his prison tent to beat him. They might have killed him if she hadn’t intervened, but his gratitude was met with a strike; she told him then that she did not care for him at all, that she still intended to kill him when the time was right. Theon was returned to his tent to heal.
It was only when Theon had healed from the beating that he attempted to escape. When his guards took him from his tent one evening, Theon managed to break away and run into the trees. With no time to try and steal a horse or any supplies, he just ran, hoping that he could stay hidden long enough to evade capture and make his way back to his own village. The weather and terrain worked against him, a combination of unfamiliar territory and frequent heavy snowfall keeping him from finding his way. Theon attempted to keep out of sight of the search parties Svanhildur sent out to find him but he had no food and no cloak or supplies to build a fire. After a week in such harsh conditions and with no food, Theon could no longer concentrate on keeping himself hidden and Svanhildur’s men tracked him down and recaptured him. They took him back to the village and straight to Svanhildur but Theon was barely aware by that time; overcome by pneumonia and weak from starvation, it was a miracle he had even survived. Svanhildur decided to once again spare his life and instructed her people to care for him until he was well again, advising them in how to purge him of his fever and terrible cough. Theon was in and out of consciousness for days and even when his fever broke, he was still sickly and weak for weeks afterwards.
Months passed with Theon as a prisoner. It was only when a man who was thought to be one of Svanhildur’s allies attacked with the intention of claiming the woman as his wife that Theon’s real chance at escape was presented to him. Naturally he seized it and as Svanhildur’s men fought for their lives and to protect their leader, Theon managed to slip away, taking one of the horses and immediately riding out for his village. He rode the horse to the point of exhaustion but it was only when he came close to his home that he slid from the saddle and allowed the animal to walk. When Theon strode back into his village, many of his people could hardly believe their eyes, most of all his mother and sister. They had thought him dead along with everyone else, and their relief at seeing him alive again was beyond anything Theon could have imagined. He told them what had happened and word spread throughout the village, soon enough everyone knew who he was and what he had been through; it was not the sort of recognition Theon had really wanted but he was treated with respect as the sole survivor of a terrible battle that had claimed so many lives. Theon came to accept it and found some kind of rhythm now that he was back home where he belonged; he provided for his family and helped out around the village, he hunted with the other men and went back to his mother and sister at night so they could spend the evenings eating and talking.
The last thing he expected was to have Svanhildur turn up. Over the months since the attack on her village and his escape from captivity, Svanhildur had been fought over as a prize by many men, passed from one to the next. It was only a matter of time before she ended up in his village, really. After viciously attacking the man who thought to claim her and fighting her way out of the house, Svanhildur managed to make it to the centre of the village, only to be overpowered and pinned down. She had hurt the man who had last laid claim to her, taking one of his eyes in her struggle to be free, and in retaliation he began to beat her violently. The crowd that gathered shouted encouragements to the man, yelled insults at the white-haired woman, they cheered and applauded.
Theon was disgusted. Without even pausing to think he broke through the crowd and stepped into the middle of the circle, planting himself between the man and his prize. Drawing his sword, Theon commanded the man to stop. Silence fell as the village reeled in shock and disbelief. Here was the woman who had held Theon as a prisoner for months, and he was actively defending her. They started to shout at him, calling for him to step aside, needlessly reminding him just who it was he was protecting. Theon shouted back that she may have held him prisoner but she had also saved his life, not once but twice. No one else had come to the battlefield to check for survivors, he reminded them. If it hadn’t been for Svanhildur and her men, he would have died on that field along with everyone else. They had no right to beat her to death. No right at all.
The villagers were not won over by Theon’s argument and several men swarmed forward to attack him. Theon was able to hold them back long enough for Svanhildur to escape, he yelled at her to run and she was able to steal a horse and gallop away from her captors. Theon could only hold the men back for so long and inevitably they had him vastly outnumbered and he yielded. That was not the end of it though. In the eyes of his people, Theon was now a traitor; he had defended the enemy, gone against everything he was supposed to represent, and they no longer trusted him. He was no longer welcome.
So it was that Theon was banished from his own village, cast out by everyone he had ever known, including his own mother and sister. Their disappointment and disbelief would never leave him but he did not stay to change their minds. Instead he packed a small bag, took his sword and a horse, and left the village as his people commanded, knowing he was lucky to still have his life. Theon rode away without arguing against their decision and immediately he set out towards Svanhildur’s home instead, arriving just in time to see her wading deep into the lake. Her village was in ruins, everyone was dead and her intent was clear. Theon shouted her name but when she ignored him he leapt from his horse and ran into the water after her. He was able to drag her from the lake before she could drown herself in the freezing waters and when he managed to get them to shore she immediately broke down, all but screaming at him to leave her alone. She said she had nothing left to live for, that she could not go on, but Theon told her that she was wrong. If she was so good with a sword then she should take hers up and have her vengeance, he told her. She was emotional, beside herself with grief, but Svanhildur conceded at last. Theon took his leave of her then, putting her village behind him as well as his own.
On his own and with nowhere to go, Theon didn’t know what to do with himself. Knowing that he needed to find work he headed out to one of the villages further away and managed to earn himself food and lodging with an older couple who could not care for their own house themselves. Theon repaired the roof and made sure they were well-stocked with firewood, he helped prepare the meals and actually grew to care for them in his own way. On the anniversary of the battle that started his life down a path he never could expected, Theon rode back to the field where so many had died in order to pay his respects. He didn’t expect to see Svanhildur, who had obviously come to do very much the same thing. It was the first time they had seen one another in months, since he had sacrificed his home and his bond with his family to spare her being beaten to death, and in his surprise Theon failed to notice the shapes moving in the darkness around them.
The creatures that had obliterated the two armies and decimated Svanhildur’s village had not left the area and they struck again, unable to resist the lure of two vulnerable humans who had no hope of defending themselves. Theon remembers reaching for his sword and a pain that seemed to paralyse him, but nothing more. When he awoke it was to unfamiliar faces and Theon immediately tried to go on the defensive but he was sore and stiff and the people in the room with him calmed him, gave him water, and told him he was in no danger. They told him that Svanhildur was safe as well and had demanded to see him. The pair were reunited and able to see with their own eyes that the other was well, as they had been told. Together they sat and listened to the people tell them of what had happened. The creatures that had attacked them were vampires who had been employed by the Goði of Theon’s village; a deal had been struck after villages had been terrorised and brutalised. The vampires had agreed to go into hibernation and would be awoken to more than they could eat when war broke out between the two clans. The vampires had turned on their would-be allies and had destroyed both armies. The same vampires had attacked Theon and Svanhildur out on the field. The people who had swept in and chased the vampires off, saving Theon and Svanhildur’s lives, were not humans at all, but werewolves; in order to save the young man and woman, they had been forced to turn them after the vampires had fed from them so viciously. They were now werewolves as well.
Theon had difficulty accepting the revelation that his own people had called the creatures into the war. He was understandably distressed and disheartened, he felt betrayed, and he sensed Svanhildur’s anger as she sat beside him. He couldn’t blame her for the way she felt. She had every right to be angry; he was angry too, he hated that his people had resorted to such terrible measures to try and win a war over land. So many people had died, ultimately for nothing. The wolves told them they would do what they could to keep the vampires from taking over the area but they could only do so much. Almost as soon as she was able, Svanhildur left the pack of wolves and struck out on her own. Theon did not try to stop her, in fact he had no chance to do so; he woke up one morning to learn she had left before first light, and that, quite simply, was that.
It made sense to Theon to stay with the wolves for a time. Svanhildur had opted to take her chances alone but Theon wanted to learn about the animal he now had inside him and so he asked them to teach him. They agreed, naturally, and so Theon learned just how to live with his wolf, how to trust it and call it to the surface when he had want or need of it. He learned how to live with heightened senses and more strength, speed and endurance than he had ever known. He sparred with them and they taught him how to apply that strength and his agility in combat. The few years he spent with the pack were filled with valuable lessons that Theon went on to apply frequently in the centuries that followed.
Eventually Theon struck out on his own as well. Being so close to home and the vampires who had done so much damage was painful to him; he couldn’t bear to be so near to his family but unable to see or speak with them and so he left. Ultimately he wandered out of Iceland altogether. The pack had found him a horse that was not spooked by his predatory presence and he was able to travel freely as he wished. From time to time he would stop in towns and villages, doing odd jobs and helping those who needed it; Theon had never been able to stand by and ignore those who needed help and he offered it willingly and without condition every time. It was as he was travelling alone through the dense woodland one day that he came across a creature who would become his companion. The young wolf, not yet fully grown and clearly underfed, had its leg caught in a crudely made trap. Theon took pity on the creature and cut it free of the trap. When it didn’t immediately dart into the underbrush to hide from him, he fed it with scraps of meat from his supplies. When the young wolf all but crawled into his lap for more food, Theon realised he was already attached to the animal. Like the horse he rode, it did not seem cowed by his feral nature and it would be good to have the animal along for companionship. Because of its white fur and quiet way of slipping through the trees, Theon called the wolf Draugur. It wasn’t long before man and wolf were bonded and Draugur was unwaveringly loyal to his new master. With the animal at his side and his inclination to protect those weaker than himself, Theon earned himself a reputation, and a title to go right along with it: the Wolf.
Ten years passed in this way before fate stepped in once again. Theon had made his way to Romania, Draugur still in tow. He did not intend to stay for long, simply pass through the country, beautiful as it was, doing odd jobs as he went so he might have money for lodging and supplies. There had been many a night when Theon had slept under the stars with his wolf by his side; there were not many places that would readily let such a creature through their doors and Theon was reluctant to leave Draugur outside alone. It was as he was passing through that something deep inside seemed to shift, discomfort sat heavily within him, it made him feel ill at ease and he could think of nothing but following that feeling. So he followed it, blindly moving along until he saw the light of the flames golden against the night sky. He started to run and when he came in sight of the burning building, there was no surprise to be felt when he saw Svanhildur. Theon did not hesitate to run towards the white-haired woman and grab her before she could charge into the burning building; as she screamed and cried, Theon took hold of her wrists and pulled her into him, her back to his chest. That was how he held her as she fought and struggled, keeping her from throwing herself to her death as he had once before. When her legs buckled beneath her and she sank towards the ground, Theon went with her, keeping his hold on her. Her grief for the boy she had cared for and subsequently lost in the fire was powerful and undeniable, he could all but taste it, and Theon remembered all too well the last time she had been overcome by such loss. There was no telling what would happen if he left her now, and so he stayed with her.
Theon ended up staying with Svana -- as he came to call her in those moments when the formality would slip and she would not correct him -- for a year, at first because he worried she might harm herself but in the end because he missed Iceland and the home he had once known. In her own way Svana was comforting, she was familiar and he had known her for some time. They had spent ten years apart but that fact barely seemed to register in his mind. Despite the way they had met, it felt natural to be in her company, as difficult as she was much of the time.
The past came calling unexpectedly in the form of the man who had attacked Svana’s village to claim her as a wife. No longer human himself, Eyvindur Halldórsson had struck a deal of his own with the vampires from the North of Iceland. In return for what was left of his men and the people of Svana’s village, he had become a vampire so that he might be strong enough to reclaim what he believed was his and keep it. When Eyvindur confronted the pair and called Svana his wife, Theon was shocked, but his surprise was short-lived. A fight broke out between the three, but when Eyvindur threatened Theon, Draugur, unwavering and protective as he was, leapt to his master’s defence. The vampire did not hesitate to bury his blade in the animal’s side before tossing the body aside. Theon, horrified and angered, tried to attack the vampire in retaliation, but Eyvindur was ready for him and drove the same blade that had killed Draugur deep into his stomach. The vampire was already badly wounded himself by this point, Svana had nearly cleaved his hand off at the wrist and he had lost a good deal of blood. Wounding Theon as severely as he had gave him the perfect opportunity to escape and recover. The blade with which Theon had been stabbed was silver and he was in agony and losing a lot of blood. Svana let the vampire escape in order to tend to Theon’s wounds and, once again, save his life.
Theon was unconscious for some time after the shock to his system, the silver had burned and poisoned as it had gone in but Svana had managed to keep the infection at bay and when he awoke she was with him. When she told him that she was sorry about Draugur, he believed her; Svanhildur was not a woman who gave her condolences freely unless they were genuine and heartfelt and he was grateful but the loss of the animal who had been his companion for years was painful. When he buried the wolf, Svana was by his side and she blessed the grave and said a prayer for the animal. That meant more to Theon than he has ever been able to tell Svana in the years since. It was only natural at that point that Theon wanted vengeance of his own, but it was more than that; he wanted to help Svana track down Eyvindur because she had given up the perfect opportunity to finish him off by staying to save his life instead. So it was that Svana’s mission became Theon’s as well.
The hunt took up most of their life for several years. They stayed together, managing to coexist as they hunted, chasing leads across country lines, weaving their way from one place to the next. It was in Russia that their partnership came to an end. The heavy snowfall made keeping track of Eyvindur difficult and it was Theon who said as much, declared one day that they had lost their quarry. The argument was brief, ended when Theon climbed back on his horse to ride on ahead. It was only when he realised he could no longer hear Svana’s horse behind him that he realised she was not there at all. She was gone. When he had ridden one way, she had gone the other. Theon chose not to pursue, instead going his own way and continuing the hunt by himself.
It was half a century before their paths crossed again. In the years they were separated, Theon spotted Svana frequently; it was only natural given that they were chasing the same man, following the same leads and trails, but he never approached her and the glimpses were fleeting before she was gone again. Theon’s reputation had not lessened over the years, and though no one knew his real name, stories followed him on his travels. The Wolf was known to many people, as was his connection to the Dragon: Svanhildur. She had a reputation all of her own and they came from a time when stories were passed down from one generation to the next, exchanged between travellers, and so the association between the two was not that much of a stretch of the imagination; there were even some who romanticised the stories of the lowborn protective squire and the highborn white-haired queen without a throne, two wildly different people brought together by fate. Theon paid little heed to the stories, simply went on with his life. The problem was that his reputation was not seen as admirable to all. To some it was downright bothersome. To others it was profitable. It was the latter that caused Theon to be targeted by a band of criminals in Ireland who thought to capture him and sell him on to those who wanted to dispose of the Wolf once and for all.
It was through Svana that they got to Theon. Over the course of a few nights Theon heard stories of a white-haired woman who had been attacked, brutally butchered and left to rot in a crypt outside the town. He had seen Svana recently but not in the last few days and Theon jumped to the conclusions expected of him. He hadn’t sensed anything as he had in Romania but he worried all the same, and it was this fear that led him out to the crypt. Down in the darkness there was a dead body, what little he could see of the hair a pale blonde. Before he could get close enough to tell whether or not it was Svana, the door slammed shut behind him and he was sealed inside. There was no light and Theon was trapped, blind in the darkness with no way out. All he could do was wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. From outside the sealed door came the sounds of combat, a blade cleaving through flesh and bone and terrible screams of panic and agony. When the door was broken open, Svana swept in and up to Theon, taking his face in her hands, telling him that it was all right, none of it was real, she was alive. Theon could scarcely believe his eyes. It had all been a ruse, nothing but a trap, and he felt foolish for falling for it, but his relief at seeing Svana alive and unharmed soon overpowered that shame. It was his relief in the wake of the scare that drove him to stay with Svana and hunt alongside her once again after so many years alone. He was worried about something happening to her and not being close enough to help her should real danger close in.
They lasted seven years. They might not have spent every waking minute together but when one picked up a lead and moved on, the other was by their side. They ended up in Scotland, but they were not alone. In his own way Eyvindur was hunting them at the same time, or at least Svanhildur, the wife he wanted to reclaim. He had been making vampires as he went, his own private army, and he sent his creations to the free house where Svana and Theon were staying in the middle of the night. The vampires climbed the walls and broke in through the windows, but Theon and Svana met them with ferocity and fought them back. After cutting through those that had spilled into his room and the hallway beyond, Theon made it to Svana’s room in time to help her destroy what was left of their attackers. With adrenaline pumping through their veins and their breathing hard, they ended up close together as the ashes fell. All Theon had to do was bow his face to hers as she leaned up to him and they would kiss, but at the last moment Svana’s hand pushed his chest and she stepped back, putting distance between them. She could not do it, she told him. Theon left the room, taking her words to heart, even if he did, in part, misinterpret the refusal. In his own room he heard her leave, watched from the window as she rode away from the free house. He didn’t chase her, feeling it was not his place, but also feeling that she did not want him with her any longer. It was her choice to make.
Theon decided to go home and that was where he stayed for a whole century. Many years had passed since he was banished from his village and he longed to know what had happened to his family. It was a long journey broken up by the same sorts of stops that had peppered his travels on the way out of Iceland and when he arrived he found the village much the same way as he remembered it but the changes that mattered were staggering. His mother has passed many years ago, and his sister had died only a matter of months before his return. His family was not gone, though. Yrsa had married and had children of her own and though she and her husband were gone, her children and grandchildren lived on. Theon was reluctant to introduce himself to them, it would take too much to explain it all to them, and so he found himself a small home outside the clan’s boundaries and took to watching over the village and its people. Theon protected his family at a distance, keeping stray vampires and thieves from getting too close, using his formidable wolf form in order to keep them from returning if the need arose. As the years passed in this way Theon learned how to keep his wolf contained during the height of the moon and he was able to watch his family flourish. They never knew him as blood but the children sometimes strayed out near to his house and played in the snow as he watched over them. Sometimes they even spoke to him. Theon did not allow himself any more than that, but he still became deeply and fiercely attached. He learned each of their names, knew all of them by sight and by scent, and as time went on he found a way to be with his family whilst keeping his distance.
It was only when word of a sighing of Eyvindur reached him that Theon took his leave of his small house and his family nearby. Knowing that Svana would be in the area, Theon kept his eyes open for her, but when he reached the town he felt that same twisting, terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that had drawn him to the burning building in Romania. Theon responded to it at once, following it to an abandoned farmhouse where he found Svana struggling to fend off a score of vampires who had clearly been sent to overpower and capture her. She was wounded, her hair and clothing were stained with blood and as the last of the vampires fell he was able to catch her as her legs failed her, sweeping her up in his arms and moving her to one of the house’s bedrooms. While she slept and healed, Theon cleaned and dressed her wounds, he washed the blood from her hair and watched over her. It was two days before she awoke, and he was staring out at the fields of snow when he felt her eyes on him through the window as he stood outside the house. For a time he stared back at her, but when she moved to rise from the bed he went back into the house and told her to stay where she was and rest. When he asked her what happened and she showed that she had not changed in the century they had been separated, it was inevitable that they ended up arguing. She did not speak of their last separation and did not apologise for what had happened. Theon read that the only way he could, as a dismissal and proof that Svana really did believe it was a mistake, what had almost happened between them. He stayed with her for a couple of weeks, until he knew she could take care of herself and the wounds had healed completely, and then he went on his way again. He refused to force his presence on her if it was not welcome.
Theon went back home, to the little house outside of the village where he had been born. The children welcomed him back when they noticed he had returned and he smiled and thanked them and life returned to what had passed for normal for the last hundred years. It felt to Theon that he could live out the rest of his life this way, watching his family move on from one generation to the next, even if he had to stay outside of it. That was enough for him. He left Svana to her hunt and tried to move on.
Eyvindur, as it turned out, had other plans. Much like the thugs in Ireland he knew very well the connection between his wife and the lowborn male who had been in and out of her life for many years, and he thought to use the connection between the Dragon and the Wolf to reclaim what was his and eliminate a nuisance at the same time. It would be easier to deal with Theon while he was alone, and if the male was in danger, Svana would surely come running.
It was the sounds of screaming and the glow of fires against the night sky that drew Theon into the village, fearing for his family, and when he arrived it was to dead bodies and destruction. There stood Eyvindur, looking pleased with himself, and at his sides were other vampires. In their hands were Theon’s family, men and women, even the children, and when he cut down those who stepped into his path to stop him, their safety was threatened. Eyvindur commanded Theon to drop his sword or he would be forced to watch his family die. One look at the children was all it took before Theon did as he was told, releasing the hilt of his weapon and letting it fall to the snow. It meant nothing in the end, and unarmed and surrounded as he was, Theon was powerless to stop Eyvindur as he commanded his vampires to kill their captives. Theon watched as his family was killed before his eyes, their throats slit or torn out by their vampire captors. All but screaming in a grief-fuelled rage, Theon fought his way free of the vampires holding him back, even as Eyvindur moved towards him, clearly intending to kill him. Theon was not thinking by that point, he wanted only to kill Eyvindur, he saw nothing else as the bodies of his family were dropped, lifeless, to the ground, their blood staining the snow.
If it hadn’t been for the horse that thundered into their path, Eyvindur and Theon would have met in the middle as intended. Svanhildur had charged into the village, killing vampires as she went, and she slid from her horse to face Eyvindur, holding her sword at his chest, commanding him to stay away from Theon. The horse did not block Theon’s path for long and he struck it to move it aside so he could get to his enemy, but it was Svana who stopped him, holding him back, knowing that he was not in his right mind. Unarmed and emotional as he was, he would have died at Eyvindur’s hands, and she would not allow it. In his grief and his rage, Theon could not see that, he could only see the man who had had his family murdered and he wanted nothing more than to tear him apart. When an arrow struck him in the shoulder from behind and knocked him down to the ground, pain joined the potent mix of emotions to deafen him to the words passed between husband and wife above his head.
When he came back to his senses, what remained of the vampires, Eyvindur included, were nowhere to be found, and Svana had taken him into one of the houses to tend to his wounds. Theon was beside himself with grief and spoke very little as she worked, save to ask her where she had been when he’d needed her. Svana offered another one of those rare apologies of hers, telling him she had come as quickly as she could but she had been so far away. Theon knew she meant it and he was tired, so he left it at that. Svana stayed, not only to heal his injuries but so she could help when he built a funeral pyre for the dead. She blessed the dead and sang for them after Theon lit the pyre and together they watched the fire. Only then did Theon ask her what had happened. He knew Eyvindur would not have left without incident. Svana told him of the bargain she had struck with her vampire husband; in exchange for one week with Theon to tend to his injuries and help him with his dead, she would meet him at an arranged time and place and go with him. His anger gave him a distraction from his grief and immediately Theon argued that the plan was a bad one, that there had to be some other way. The idea of Svana just giving herself over to the same man she had been trying to destroy for years on end did not sit well with him at all, and he managed to convince Svana to double-cross Eyvindur instead; she would get to hold to her word and keep her honour but she could strike back at her enemy as well.
So Svana met with Eyvindur at the arranged time and place, but Theon went with her. Staying out of sight and remaining downwind of the vampire, Theon waited for his chance to strike back at the man who had wiped out his family, leaving Theon alone in the world. Eyvindur was smarter than that though, he sensed something was wrong, but even as he turned to flee Theon revealed himself in his full wolfen form and struck. If it hadn’t been for the vampire’s quick reflexes, Theon would have taken his head from his shoulders. Instead his claws slashed savagely through the left side of Eyvindur’s face, taking an eye in the process. The vampire was able to escape further harm and flee from the two wolves before they could do any more harm, but Theon knew that the damage he had inflicted would be permanent. It had been satisfying to maim the man who had done so much damage to both Svana and himself, but Theon knew he would never be truly satisfied until Eyvindur was dead.
The blow not only to his flesh but his pride drove Eyvindur into hiding and the trail went cold. Theon and Svana took their chance to rest as well, and once again deciding to stay together they moved away from Iceland and all its bad memories and old pains and sailed across the sea to Canada instead. With no trail to follow, there was little they could do, and if they wanted to leave their ghosts behind they had to try and start over somewhere new. The snowy wilderness of Manitoba, to the west of Québec, seemed like as good a place as any and another century slipped by them as they made a life for themselves. Svana came and went, but each time she went off on her own the time would shorten; where she was gone for a month or two in the beginning, she would only be gone for a week or so later on. What mattered was that she always came back. They kept animals for produce, Theon hunted in the wilds surrounding their small home and Svana would go into the towns for supplies and news of the outside world. It was in this way that they found Eyvindur once again. In his own way, the vampire drew them out.