Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 18

Theon
When Sansa's cries finally faded, her head was in Theon's lap. Somewhere between sobs, she had fallen asleep, which made Theon especially grateful: to see her in so much pain had nearly broken him to tears—and it had been a long time since Theon Greyjoy cried.

Her slumber was peaceful, from what Theon could tell as he moved his hand gently along her neck, watched the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. When a knock came at the door, it did not seem to disturb her. Theon did not call them in, for fear of waking her, but the door creaked open anyway. That morning, when Sansa came to him, Theon had not thought to bar the door behind him.

Robb's face in the doorway surprised Theon so much he nearly leapt to his feet and jerked Sansa off his lap. Somehow, though, he held his stillness.

"Robb," he breathed, suddenly aware of his position. "I promise it isn't—"

Robb Stark raised a hand to silence him. He closed the door carefully and then leaned against it for a moment with his arms crossed behind his back.

Theon placed his palm on the side of Sansa's head, hoping it might soothe her deeper into sleep as Robb moved closer to the bedside. "You know the Prince is coming?" he whispered, his eyes on his sister. Theon nodded, which prompted Robb to continue. "It will be our duty to look after her and Arya."

"You're Lord of Winterfell," Theon reminded him in a hushed tone, "and Warden of the North until your father returns—"

"If  he returns," Robb sighed.

"Fine," Theon snapped back. "If I have to take the head off that blonde cunt myself, I'll do it. If one of us has to die protecting them, it should not be the man who maintains peace in the North." As quiet as he tried to be, Theon worried his anger might stir Sansa, but the girl stayed sound asleep in his lap, her arm tucked around his leg.

Robb looked away from them, considering. Theon was right, Robb had to know it, but whether or not he would admit it then was a different story. Theon knew the eldest Stark boy to be proud—immensely proud—but he was loyal to his family above all else. Peace in the North meant nothing if his family was not alive with him, safe at Winterfell where they belonged.

But Theon was a Greyjoy—just a Greyjoy. And if cutting off Joffrey's hands meant keeping them off of the girls, he would do it. Even if it meant he was marched down to King's Landing in chains and beheaded where the whole city could see.

"We cannot shed royal blood here," Robb decided. "Not only because it would cost you your head, but because it would almost certainly cost my father his."

Theon leaned his head back against the stone wall behind him. "You know what Joffrey did to Arya in King's Landing," he reminded Robb. "How will we protect them here without knocking his teeth out?"

Robb shrugged. "I don't know yet." He looked down at his sister, and Theon did the same. Her cheeks were rosy from the tears she had shed, her long auburn hair pulled back from her face in braids. Theon moved a stray piece away from her forehead, nearly forgetting that Robb's eyes were on him.

Theon could not help it—no one in his life had ever looked half as beautiful to him.

"You didn't take her to bed," Robb declared knowingly, and then he met Theon's stare, "but you want to."

When he said it, Theon had to look away. It would do him no good to lie to Robb anymore, not as his sister lay in his bed as they spoke. Fortunately, he did not have to—Robb understood what he would not say.

"Then you will be putting her in danger when Joffrey comes," he concluded. "If he sees you as a threat, he will take it out on her, do you understand?" Robb indicated Sansa with a nod, and she crinkled her nose in her sleep, as if she had heard him.

Theon did not want to believe it; he had only just gotten to touch her again. He did not want her beyond his reach once Joffrey arrived in Winterfell. He said none of it to Robb, though—only nodded his understanding.

Robb went to the door and turned to face Theon just as he lifted Sansa's head to shift his weight beneath her. "When you are able, meet me in my chamber, and bring Sansa, too. She and my mother will prepare a mattress, and I need your help making a space for Joffrey."

"The cells beneath the castle are not an option?" Theon mused, which made Robb chuckle.

"The Prince will sleep in the study off my bedchamber," Robb told him. "That way, he will not come or go without my knowledge." He lifted the bar from the door and added, "Sansa and Arya will move into Jon's old room with Bran and Rickon so that none of them are ever on their own."

Robb pulled open the door and left.

The moment it was shut, Sansa rolled over in Theon's lap and gazed up at him with tired blue eyes. She mumbled, "I could stay in here with you instead of with them. I'll never be on my own then either."

He could not help but smile. "Gods," he exhaled, nudging her lips with his knuckle, "you know I would have you here every night if I could."

Sansa let her eyes close again as she asked, "No one else?"

Theon lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers softly. "No one else," he promised.