Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 22

Theon
The knock at Theon's door came before dawn, barely louder than the rain that pattered onto the ground outside. Still, Theon was an uneasy sleeper—and the sound prompted him to sit up. He looked to Sansa, who remained sound asleep in the bed beside him.

And then the noise came again.

Sansa stirred then and opened her mouth, but Theon covered her lips with a hand to silence her before she could speak. When another knock came, she understood.

"Is it time for your lesson with Bran and Rickon?" she whispered.

Theon glanced at the window, saw the darkness, and shook his head. Sansa was clothed—though only in a tunic Theon had provided her when she woke cold in the middle of the night. It fit her well enough to be a nightshift, but it would not make their situation look any better to whomever waited at the door.

"Theon," Robb's voice came.

No one could have been worse. "Seven fucking hells," Theon hissed in response, quiet enough that only Sansa would hear. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he motioned for her to lay down and stay quiet.

Theon slipped on a shirt and unbarred the door. He creaked it open just enough to slip through into the hallway, where Robb was already dressed for the day. He wore a sword and a doublet bearing the Stark colors, his direwolf brooch illuminated by the torch he carried. Before Theon could stop him, Robb pushed open the chamber door all the way and looked to the bed. Theon turned quickly to see what he would find there.

Somehow, Sansa was gone.

His mouth fell open, even when Robb nodded in approval and stepped back into the hall. "I had to be sure you had not taken my sister to bed," he muttered, beckoning Theon to follow.

When Robb turned to start down the corridor, Theon glanced one last time over his shoulder, just as Sansa peered over the edge of the bed on the far side of the room. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"What is it?" Theon asked Robb. He shuffled his feet to catch up with the quick pace and paused only to tuck his shirt into his breeches.

Robb ducked down the staircase, removed his black cloak, and handed it to Theon. "Take this," he commanded, so Theon did. Next, he removed his doublet, only to forfeit that, too.

"What are you doing?" Theon snapped at him.

"A rider arrived in the night," said Robb. "The fucker put a rock through my window."

It made Theon shake his head and consider if he was perhaps still half-asleep. "What are you talking about?" he stuttered.

In response, Robb slipped a parchment from his belt and passed it to him. "That was attached to the bloody thing," he added, removing his belt now.

Theon read it: They have eyes in the North. Even now. They will have more when the boy arrives.

There was nothing else. "Did you see who the rider was?" Theon asked, but Robb shook his head.

"I watched 'em ride out the front gates on a black mare." Robb kicked off his shoes. "Could not say whether it was a man or a woman in the dark."

Theon looked back down at the paper, and Robb snapped at him to start getting dressed. Dutifully, Theon slipped on the doublet then asked, "Why am I wearing your clothes?"

Robb did not wait for Theon before he started down the stairs again. "Before my father left, he told me that if anything were to go sour in King's Landing, and he could not trust his words—his true words—to reach Winterfell, Jory Cassel would ride himself to meet me on the soonest full moon." Robb, wearing only his undershirt now, slowed so that Theon could catch up before he went on, "Every full moon for the past year, I have ridden to make certain my father's word from the South was unadulterated. Jory's absence meant my father was not in danger there."

"Why should tonight be any different?" Theon asked, fastening Robb's cloak round his shoulders. It was heavy, but the weight kept the cold air of the castle at bay.

Robb snatched the parchment back from Theon's hand. "Because my father is letting Joffrey come to Winterfell," he began. "You know my father—he trusts no one but himself to stave off an enemy like Joffrey Baratheon. Nothing would motivate him to send the boy here." A tattered brown cloak was hanging inside the castle doors, so Robb threw it on to replace the one he's lost.

"So why do you need me?" Theon pressed. "Why not ride to meet Jory Cassel as you always have? See for yourself if there is something you do not know." When the words left his mouth, Theon stopped to face Robb fully. They were at the doors then, and Theon could hear the rain falling violently against the walls.

Robb waved the note between them. "If this letter is right, I cannot trust that I won't be followed," he declared. "If Jory carries sensitive word from King's Landing, these...eyes might butcher Jory and me, both, in the Wolfswood to guarantee the word he carries does not reach Winterfell."

"The Wolfswood?" Theon echoed.

"Where the White Knife meets the Kingsroad," replied Robb. "It's where my father said I was to meet Jory Cassel if the time came." He handed Theon his silver brooch—the direwolf that every Stark child was given at their birth. Mikken bragged he had forged each with such care that preparing just one took the entirety of Lady Catelyn's pregnancy. Robb waited for Theon to take it before he said, "You will take my horse and ride North. It is important that you are seen. Let it be known to all you pass that Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, rides for Last Hearth."

Theon pinned the direwolf on his breast, along the seam of Robb's green doublet. "What do I say we want with the Umbers?" he asked as he straightened it.

"Say a deserter of the Night's Watch was captured near the Last River, and he is being held by the Umbers at Last Hearth to await justice from the Warden of the North." Robb passed his belted sword to Theon and grasped his shoulder. "The sword is Wolf's Revenge—everyone in the North knows it belongs to my father. Anyone who has not met my face will believe you to be true." He forced the belt into Theon's chest. "Wear it with pride."

Theon sighed, moving to tighten the belt around his waist. Minutes earlier, he had slept dreamlessly beside Sansa, his lips still sweet from the taste of her. Pleasuring her had filled Theon with such hunger—all he wanted was to be back between her legs, soaking up her sweetness with his tongue.

Somehow, he had gone from Sansa's lower lips to the castle doors—garbed with the dress of her brother—in a matter of hours. He hoped only that Sansa would sneak back to her room quietly.

Robb interrupted his thoughts to say, "We will both return on the morrow. So ride North until sunset and then turn back quickly, this time beside the Kingsroad." He looked Theon straight in the eye. "Stop only to water your horse, Theon, do you understand me?"

Theon nodded. "And if I should encounter any trouble?" he asked when Robb unlatched the door.

Outside, the rain fell hard and fast, flooding the path that led out of Winterfell. It would not be an easy ride on the Kingsroad.

"If you should encounter trouble," Robb remarked, "then it will be good that you carry my father's sword."