Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 43

Sansa
In just a day, everything changed. Men from miles outside Winterfell came to defend Sansa Stark. Jory Cassel, Ser Rodrick, Theon, and several other riders visited each village and requested assistance. None refused. Individuals who had never met a Stark in their lives rode back with a dozen in tow, all prepared to stand for their Lord's sister.

The North remembers, Sansa recalled her father saying once. And so the North had.

His trip to call for men was the only time Theon left Sansa for longer than an afternoon. She stayed in his room with Arya every night—Sansa and her sister shared the bed, while Theon used one of the cots they had built for Jon's room. He would push it against the door so that entering was near impossible. Some nights, when Sansa laid her head against the pillow to sleep, she watched Theon breathe deeply and roll over as he dreamt. It was comforting to have him so close.

A fortnight passed before Sansa's wounds healed. She and Arya rarely left Theon's room, but when they went for walks in the yard, they were eyed from every battlement. If Joffrey ever came near them, men wearing the Stark sigil would emerge from castle doorways to deter him. Eventually, he stopped trying. Arya said she saw him on the way to the brothel once.

"The Hound was with him," Arya told her. "He wouldn't bed a Northern girl without a guard, I think."

It was true—especially since the Northern lords had become aware of Joffrey's abuse. Sansa wondered how the boy-prince had survived so long with his head on his shoulders.

The day Robb received word of Tyrion's ship, Sansa felt relief for the first time in weeks. She rushed to tell Arya, and they jumped up on Theon's bed like they were only half as old as Rickon. They hugged and celebrated in hushed voices: it was meant to be a kidnapping, after all. Still, hiding her smile as she ran to pack her things was difficult for Sansa. Fortunately, no one but Theon saw her grinning in the corridor.

Sansa beckoned him down the hall when she reached her old chamber door. He smiled wide and followed. Just inside the room, he picked her up and spun her around. Sansa held tight to his neck, giggling. She kept her arms around him even when he lowered her back onto the ground. There was still good left in the Realm, and Sansa did not want to let it go.

Suddenly, she remembered where she was: the last time she had been in her chamber was the night Joffrey turned it into a nightmare. Sansa shuddered, and Theon felt it.

"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning away from her so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye.

Sansa stepped back and nodded. "Yes," she replied, though her voice was weak. Her gaze wandered around the room. Since that night, Theon had retrieved anything she needed so that Sansa would not have to face it herself. Now she had no choice. "This is the first time I've been back since Joffrey forced himself on me in here." She held onto Theon's hand but turned to face the room. The sheets had been changed, so the blood from Sansa's face and ribs was not there to remind anyone what had happened.

But, like the North, Sansa remembered. And it hurt.

"I spent my whole life here," she sighed to the walls, "and he tore it apart in one night."

Theon squeezed her hand in assurance. "You can have a new chamber in the tallest tower on Pyke," he promised, sitting down on the bed.

Sansa crinkled her nose. "I'll be a princess in a tower?" she laughed.

Theon shrugged. "You'll be mine at least." He tugged on her hand, and she moved closer to the bedside, where Theon could hold onto her waist. His grin made Sansa's heart flutter.

"Joffrey took this place from me," she breathed. "He took this bed. I don't even feel like it's mine anymore." Sansa touched Theon's cheek. Her whole body was warm with desire. Theon gazed up at her, and the feeling intensified in her stomach.

"What is it?" Theon asked softly.

Sansa hesitated, then looked to the barred door. "This room should be mine," she remarked, her fingers on the laces of his doublet. "Will you help me take it back?"

It was clear from his expression that Theon did not understand, so Sansa leaned forward to tempt him with her lips. When she was just inches away, he lost his patience, and eased her down to kiss him.

"I want all of you," Sansa breathed against him, and Theon tightened his grip on her waist.

The sensation inside Sansa's bones was familiar to her now: she wanted Theon between her legs, touching her, kissing her. They had been intimate a handful of times before Joffrey arrived but never since then—and never had Sansa allowed him inside of her. But she knew she wanted it now. It was all she wanted.

When Theon put his hand on the back of her neck to kiss her harder, Sansa's body heated. She straddled Theon's lap, letting herself sink onto him, only for a moment before he picked her up and turned her over onto the bed.

Desperately, Sansa fumbled with the laces of her dress while Theon pulled off his doublet and the undershirt beneath it. Seeing his bare chest and the scars that decorated his skin made Sansa want him more. Theon must have sensed it, because he hurried to help with her clothes.

When she was left in her smallclothes, Theon kissed her neck. His mouth on the underside of her jaw made Sansa ache with desire. "You're certain you want this?" he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Sansa had never wanted anything more. "Please," she murmured back to him then reached up to grab the waistband of his breeches. "Can you take these off?" she inquired. It made Theon smile.

Sansa was aching for him so badly that she tried to move him back on top of her. Theon chuckled and pushed her anxious hands back to the bed. "We have to go slow," he told her. As much as Sansa wanted him, she knew that he was right: Jeyne Poole had once told her that some men could tear a woman if she was not ready for him.

So Sansa held herself back, allowing Theon to lead her.

It made Sansa so excited that her hands shook when she lifted them to Theon's neck. All she wanted was to cry out from the sweetness of it.

Soon, his lips were on her neck. He whispered, "I have to let go, lovely." Sansa felt him start to pull back, but she tightened her grip on his torso, bringing him into her again.

"I told you I wanted all of you," she reminded him, and he smiled.

When they were finished, Theon collapsed beside her, breathing hard. The grin had not left his lips.

Sansa rolled over so that she could lay her head against Theon's shoulder. He tightened his grip on her, kissed the crown of her head, and breathed, "I will never stop loving you."

Sansa smiled, exhausted but more alive than ever. "And I'll love you even longer," she replied, and wrapped her arms around his neck.