Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 15

Sansa
As she returned to her chamber from the Godswood that morning, Sansa felt as though someone was on her heels. She moved slowly up the stairs, careful of her knees against her skirt, and listened for footsteps or voices behind her. When she reached the door to her room, a hand caught her shoulder.

"Theon," she gasped when she saw him. "You frightened me."

At first, she was too startled to remember her anger, but it bubbled up quickly in her throat. He glanced around nervously, as if to make sure no one was approaching. "Here," he breathed and held a roll of parchment between them. Sansa knew her father's golden seal: the Hand of the King. Theon explained, "I took the raven down in the yard before it got to your mother's window."

There was a drop of blood beside the shimmering wax that made Sansa shiver. She opened her door and beckoned for Theon to follow. Once inside, Theon barred the door. "Start a fire," Sansa commanded as she broke the seal. He followed as he was bid, moving two logs into the hearth.

Sansa turned away from him and unraveled the paper. Cat, it started, it is time for Sansa to come South. Robert is growing impatient, and the Queen has suggested the Northerners will feel the love the city bears them if they see a Stark of Winterfell as their future Queen. I cannot disagree. As much as I want to protect our daughter, I know my bannermen. They will never love the King I helped to put on the Iron Throne unless they are sure a Stark will be there to speak for them when I am gone from this world. Have Theon and Robb gather an escort that they trust to see Sansa safely to King's Landing. I promise I will look after her well.

Before she read her father's name at the bottom of the page, Sansa crumpled the parchment between her hands. The wax seal fell in flakes onto the floor.

"No one can know," she commanded, feeding it to the flames that Theon had sparked.

He nodded his understanding and stood to watch the paper die away. "Sansa," he began.

She did not let him finish. "You can leave now."

Theon paused. It was evident that he did not want to leave, wanted to speak something more into existence, but instead he he nodded again and left the room.

Arya passed him in the doorway as he left. "Did he give it to you?"

Sansa feigned ignorance. "Did he give me what?"

"I was with him when he brought down the raven," Arya replied, closing the door. "I helped him bury it."

"Why were you with him when he brought down the bird?" inquired Sansa as she removed her cloak.

Her sister sighed. "I was practicing what I want to do to Joffrey." She pulled an arrow from her belt and rolled it between her fingers. "Theon helped me."

It softened Sansa's expression, though her voice remained flat. "That was very kind of him," she observed.

Arya stayed at the door, her back pressed up against the wood. Sansa removed her skirt, slipped into her day clothes, and waited for her sister to speak. "I'm sorry," Arya said eventually. "I know it wasn't your fault what Joffrey did."

With a shaky breath, Sansa clipped the direwolf brooch onto her clean dress. "I'm very glad you're home safe now," she breathed, though she did not turn to face the door.

"Theon said he would shoot down every raven if he had to," Arya began carefully. "I told him I would help, too."

Borrowed time, Sansa knew. She said nothing, only nodded at the window. Suddenly, Arya's arms were wrapped around her from behind, holding her so tight it almost hurt. Sansa had never been close with her sister—despite being the only Stark girls. Arya got on better with her brothers, and Sansa was closest with Jeyne Poole.

But this was a pain only Sansa and her blood-sister could understand.

Sansa turned to hug her back, trying hard not to cry. "Thank you for helping me," she stammered. "I can never repay you."

Arya's grip on her tightened.

"Girls?" a voice came from the door. Sansa heard it creak open, and she turned to find her mother at the door. Their embrace seemed to startle her. "Are you two all right?"

Sansa had held her tears, and Arya looked as stern as ever. They nodded in unison, which seemed to satisfy Lady Catelyn. She motioned for them to follow, and they did, hand-in-hand. They walked down the hall to their mother's solar, where breakfast had been left for them on the wooden table. Bran and Rickon were there already, bumbling impatiently.

"Can we eat now?" Rickon whined.

"You may," Catelyn replied. Sansa and Arya sat down at the table, squeezing in between their brothers to break their fast.

Sansa was not hungry, but she made herself eat. Each bite pained her, and she was reminded of the supper two nights prior—when Theon had come late and wet from the rain.

He had bedded some woman just before that, Sansa reminded herself now. The thought made her knees ache.