Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 52

Content Warning: this chapter includes descriptions of violence against women, some of which is sexual in nature.

Theon
They took the boat wide around the islands, to ensure they could approach Pyke from the South without being spotted on the way there. It meant the journey was longer than it had been the last time Theon made it when he was ten years old.

He was surprised that Sansa and Arya were not made sick by the waves immediately upon setting sail. Even when a storm broke out over the water on their sixth night, only Meera fell ill. Near the end of their journey, however, when they had already been asea for nearly two weeks, Sansa spent the nights sick. It would come on suddenly and last only a few hours, during which she insisted Theon return to the cabin they shared below deck. He never left her side.

She had no fever, and by dawn she was well again, so she spent the mornings sleeping while the rest of the party broke their fast and tended to the ship. Theon always let her rest as long as her body allowed, though he checked on her frequently, sometimes just to kiss her forehead or hold her hand. When the vessel finally made landfall at the Southern docks of Pyke, Theon was grateful that Sansa might get more sleep off the water.

He was the first to disembark.

It was nearly evening, which meant the docks were inhabited by boisterous drunkards and women they decided were theirs for the taking. Marriage was a mere formality in the Iron Islands, since most men had several wives outside of their true partners: a salt wife, a rock wife—and the brothel women or vulnerable ladies on the streets whom they forced themselves upon, sometimes violently, often to shouts of encouragement from the men around them. Theon hated to think he had ever respected men like that. Theon hated to think his father, his brothers, had been men like that, especially now that he loved a good woman so dearly.

The air was salty, and a heavy mist hung upon the docks like a blanket. Through it, Theon could not make out the towers of Pyke, built to house his ancestors—the first kings of the Iron Islands. In the tallest of them now, they would certainly find Theon's father, Balon Greyjoy.

Arya was heartbroken to leave Meera, who had become as true a friend to her as anyone in Winterfell. Theon had not often seen her play with other children, but she had gotten on so well with Meera that she asked if the Reed girl would come ashore with them. It made Meera smile, but Theon looked on as she wrapped her arms around Arya and reminded her she had to get home.

"When you come back," Theon heard her say, "you can come visit us at Greywater Watch. I can show you how we cook our frogs."

Arya nodded solemnly and hugged her again.

The rest of the Reed party helped with their belongings, and Theon paid the drunken stableboy at the end of the docks a few silvers for horses that could carry them to their final destination. "I promise to bring them back on the morrow," he lied to the man, who accepted it readily.

Theon clapped Havhan Reed on the shoulder, and the big man told him, "I know this was your home once, but you might not have friends here, anymore." Havhan eyed the grey land suspiciously before he added, "Be careful." With that, he clambered back onto the ship, bowing his head to Sansa as she passed him, wrapped in her dark hooded cloak. If fiery auburn locks were rare in the Neck, they were even rarer on the Iron Islands. Sansa would be revealed as an outsider quickly if she were not careful, which would make her an easy target for sots on the road.

When she approached him, Theon pulled her hood a little further down on her forehead, tucking away a strand of her hair. He removed the kraken brooch from his chest and used it to pin Sansa's cloak more closely beneath her chin. "Make certain this stays tight," he instructed. As much as he feared men might make an effort to touch her, Theon was careful not to let Sansa see his concerns.

Sansa comforted him with a gentle smile and then brushed his hand with hers. He could never have imagined loving anyone so much.

Before the boat set off for its return trip, Theon and the girls were on their way.

He had only vague memories of the route to his old home, but he trusted the trodden path on which they rode. As the sun set on them, Theon eyed every man and woman who crossed their path, one hand on his sword to indicate his willingness to unsheathe it. Sansa kept her head down, which helped keep most trouble at bay. One man did call out, "Hey, lady—you wanna fuck this?" as he pulled his cock from his breeches. Arya's hair had grown since they left Winterfell, which meant she was starting to look more like the little girl that she was—though, even with long hair, Arya had often been mistaken for a beggar boy outside the walls of Winterfell. The man's derisive cries could have been directed at either her or Sansa, but neither looked up or paid him any mind. Theon's glare prompted the little man to tuck away his manhood and stumble away, bothered.

The Greyjoys had always been revered for their rugged nature: it made them the model denizen of the Iron Islands, who reaped and raided the mainland for anything they could not grow or make themselves. Theon knew he would not bask in the same regard when the Ironborn learned he had fallen in love with a Northern girl—more traitorous that the Northern girl was a daughter of Ned Stark.

There would be no easy way for Theon to explain himself, especially not to his father. He would have hell to pay for the trouble he was bringing back with him to the Iron Islands, and soon he would have no choice but to face it.