Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 32

Theon
When Theon saw Sansa come into the Great Hall, he breathed a sigh of relief. After she had wandered off with Joffrey and the Hound upon their arrival, her absence troubled Theon immensely: how could he keep her safe if she were alone with the boy-prince and his dog? Sure enough, the Hound meandered through the doors not far behind them, eyeing the men and women at their tables.

Theon did not have a place at the dais during feasts, nor did he sit at one of the long tables: he did not want to be held up amongst drunken Northerners should he find it necessary to draw his weapon. Instead, he stood at the far end of the platform, close to the door that led into one of the castle corridors, where he could see the Great Hall's entrance clearly.

Arya sat in the seat closest to him, as far from Joffrey as Robb could manage to put her with the boy-prince occupying the center seat. When the first course came out, Robb raised a toast to the prince and his father, the King.

"And may your marriage with my sweet sister be long and kind," he added.

The Northerners lifted their cups in unison, but only a few muttered their agreement. Joffrey did not seem bothered as he sipped his wine.

Arya fiddled with her fork, only occasionally picking at the food before her. Theon looked over and sighed, "You have to eat, my Lady."

She did not turn to him. "You're not eating," she mumbled.

"Only because there's no place for me here," Theon remarked.

Arya rested an elbow on the table to hold up her head in her hand. "You're welcome to my seat," she suggested, and Theon smiled at her.

"Just two more courses, my Lady." He reached over to inch her plate closer to her.

Arya made no move to accept it. "Stop calling me a lady," she grumbled.

"What would you have me call you then?" he asked.

She picked up her fork. "Just my name."

Theon nodded and gazed back at the entrance to the hall. "Don't you wish we could put an arrow through his cock right now?" he mused under his breath.

Thankfully, it made Arya giggle. She was only a child, and she had been hurt beyond her years, Theon knew. Only a Stark could endure such a plight in King's Landing, and Arya was proof of it. Somehow, it did not comfort Theon when he thought about Sansa heading South to live alone with her prince. Ned Stark was there, yes, but he may as well have had a knife to his throat: he would not be able to protect Sansa any more than he had Arya.

Joffrey would be irate when he saw the little room that would be his chamber; his belongings had hardly fit between the walls. If he breathed, Robb would hear it, which meant at least that he could do Sansa no harm there.

At Robb's request, all of the Stark children would stay together in one room on the far side of the castle, close to Lady Catelyn's room and as far from Theon, Robb, and Joffrey as possible. The prince's knights would stay in the cellar of the castle, despite Robb's insistence that they take warm rooms at the inn just outside the gates. Two would stand guard at Joffrey's door every night, inside of Robb's room, and another two would be stationed just outside of Robb's door. If Theon tried to go anywhere in the night, those men would see it.

Arya was nibbling at her food now, but she looked awkward and uncomfortable, hunched over the table in her cumbersome dress. Theon leaned forward to see past her, watching Joffrey as he placed his hand atop Sansa's in the center of the table.

If he could have, Theon would have clambered up onto the table and hacked off the boy's arm then and there. The thought of his perfumed hands on Sansa's skin made Theon feel dizzy, so he poked once at the gash on his chest to pull himself from his stupor. As he did it, his fingers grazed the silver kraken Sansa had pinned to his chest. It was warm beneath his touch, as if some piece of Sansa were inside of it, alive and unharmed.

When Theon cocked his head to get a better look at her face up on the dais, she wore no smile. It was not until Joffrey turned to her that she managed some sort of half-hearted grin. The prince leaned over to whisper something in Sansa's ear, and instinctively, Theon felt for the hilt of his sword.

Sansa showed no reaction to whatever the boy-prince had said to her, but Joffrey started to laugh wildly. The Hound, who stood beneath the dais, just in front of his prince, scanned the crowd in silence.

"Maybe it won't snow for a long time," Arya pondered. Theon asked her what she meant. "Father's letter to Sansa said she would not have to leave until the first sign of snow. Maybe it won't snow for a while."

"Maybe," Theon agreed. "I hope so." He did not want to think about her leaving, but he could not show Arya his weakness.

She must have spotted it anyway. "Do you love her?" she asked amidst the roar of the Great Hall.

Theon sighed away as much of the hurt as he could. "I do," he admitted.

"You shouldn't," Arya reminded him. She added, "My father loves me, and it broke him to see the way I got hurt. I don't want you to break because of her hurt."

Theon patted her knee beneath the table. "I wish I could keep myself from loving her," he confessed. "I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't. But I don't think it's something I can choose to stop doing."

As Theon looked out over the guests then, he wondered who was only pretending to pledge themself to Robb. If it were true that the Lannisters had friends here, watching the Starks with violent eyes, would they notice the way Theon looked at Sansa? The way he kept his sword on his hand when he saw others approach her?

He shook away the thought.