Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 48

Theon
Havhan Reed was a good man, Theon decided. He was gruff in manner, and as cautious as any Northerner, but his words gave Theon faith in the crannogmen of Greywater Watch, even if he knew little of Havhan's brother, Lord Howland Reed. There were stories about Howland's role in Robert's Rebellion; when the war came to an end, he was grievously wounded defending Ned Stark's sister, Lyanna Stark. Some suggested he had been the one to cut down Arthur Dayne—the Sword of the Morning, though few believed it. After all, Howland Reed was born and raised in the Neck, where most boys learned to fight swamp animals instead of men, and Arthur Dayne was the greatest swordsman who ever lived.

Theon was prodding at the weak muscles of his bad shoulder as he left for his chamber. Waldron Snow, the orphan taken in by the Reeds, was speaking with the innkeeper near the stairwell. She was old and had crooked teeth, but she flirted with Waldron as if she were young, though he looked desperate to escape her.

"Greyjoy," he hollered as Theon passed, "your room is at the top of the stairs."

Theon hesitated only for a moment before he nodded and left them. The hall at the top was long and dark, which made it hard for Theon to see the doors that lined it. Only the one before him was clearly visible, so Theon pushed it open. Inside, it was cold and wet, with two candles and a fire in the hearth to illuminate the room, which lacked for a window on its walls.

Theon was startled to find Sansa on the edge of the bed, her hair wet from a bath. It was red again, like her mother's, loose over her shoulder. The flickering light painted golden shadows over her long white gown, which fell to the floor but left her bare feet exposed beneath it.

It was true that Sansa was the most beautiful woman in the Realm—she had always been, Theon knew—but something about the way she gazed peacefully at the fire, her dress billowy around her skin, collarbones and chest bared, made Theon realize how maddeningly beautiful she truly was. He knew every man fell in love with her at first glance, would happily give their life for just one kiss, one smile. It was no wonder that every Northern lord had offered to marry her, some even willing to leave their wives if Ned Stark would promise them his eldest daughter's hand.

Just the sight of her sitting on the bed, fingers intertwined upon her lap, ripped Theon's breath from his lungs. He froze at the door, too mesmerized to move or speak or look away.

Sansa turned away from the fire to meet Theon's gaze. As she smiled at him, her features glowed so soft in the light that Theon nearly lost his footing. Had the door not been at his back to hold him up, he might have fallen into a heap at Sansa's feet.

"Are you all right?" she asked in a quiet, melodic voice.

Theon opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. What could he say to the most beautiful woman in the world that would do her justice then? He was certain that nothing would ever make him worthy of her.

Sansa's ice-blue eyes stayed on him, which only made it more difficult for Theon to collect himself. Finally, he managed, "Yes, I'm all right."

She narrowed her gaze and crinkled her nose. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she laughed.

With the little strength her beauty had not taken from him, Theon stepped to the bedside and knelt before her. He lifted Sansa's hand from her lap and pressed his lips against it. After a moment, she brushed her fingers over his cheek.

"Why do you want me?" he stammered, breathless. "You could have had any man in the Seven Kingdoms. Look at you." Theon touched her waist, felt the silky fabric of her gown and the softness of the skin beneath it that he knew so well.

Theon saw her cheeks flush, and she laughed. "Why would I want any other man in the Seven Kingdoms?" she chided.

He got up off his knee to kiss her lips, warm and sweet. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "Will you be my wife?"

Sansa smiled, bringing a hand up to touch his face. Theon could have drowned in that smile, so giddy and kind. "I would love nothing more," she replied, before another laugh escaped her. "Are you drunk?" she inquired.

"No," Theon assured her. He shook his head, grasping for words all over again. "I just—" He hesitated before mustering, "I just love you more than you can imagine."

She planted a playful kiss on his nose. "I can imagine," she told him, "because I love you more than that."

He rolled his eyes at her and smiled, shaking his head.

"What?" Sansa exclaimed. "It's true!"

"It's not," he countered. "Believe whatever you want, but I'll always know."

Sansa furrowed her brows at him, feigning anger, before she pulled him down onto the bed and wrestled him onto his back. He laughed, then tried wriggling out from underneath her, but she fought back.

"I'm stronger than you," Sansa concluded, but the struggle in her voice gave her away.

Theon let her win, settling onto the bed with a sigh. "Fine, you are." He brushed her hair from her face as she leaned over him, a leg on each side of his torso.

She tucked herself in against his chest and squeezed him tight. "Every woman at Winterfell wanted you," she breathed.

Theon could only smile: Sansa would never admit to her own beauty, and Theon wondered if she even knew about the Northern Lords Ned Stark had spurned when they came to ask after his daughter. He had spoken earnestly to Robb, Theon, and Jon—about how Sansa would always attract unwanted attention from bad men.

"Some men will die trying to take her," Ned Stark had said. "If you have to take their lives yourselves, you will."

Theon had only been at Winterfell three years then, but he had seen firsthand how men looked at Sansa's body, even when she was just a child. It always made Theon feel ill. Now, as Sansa laid upon his chest, the thought only sickened him more.

Sansa seemed not to notice his fears. "Let me fetch one of the innkeeper's girls," she declared, rising to her feet. "I'll have them draw you a bath." She went to the door, her bare feet pattering against the floor as she went. Theon watched her until she slipped into the corridor, out of sight.