Toby was his little wolf, the only Stark he could put up with; the rest of them, except for maybe Ned, annoyed him badly, but he was madly in love with Toby. Toby was his baby. His sweet boy, Theon, was 24, while Toby was 20. Toby loved Theon. They were best friends; they were lovers. They were inseparable, and Toby loved his family. Of course he did. Theon had been planning the takeover for a while. And now the Starks were vulnerable. But the thing was, he would never hurt a hair on Toby’s head, and he knew, Toby, you would not approve of what he was about to do, but he had to. He had to make his father proud; he would not hurt any of the Starks if they complied with him. Toby woke up to the sound of men yelling about something. He walked out and saw Theon.