Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 60

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

Theon
Theon brought food to their chambers so that Sansa and Arya could break their fast on something that was not water or wine. Sansa took some medicine from Maester Wendamyr which kept down her meal, and she had not woken in the night to vomit. Theon took it as an indication that their luck would improve.

When the sun was high outside the tower, Theon found Asha at her chamber door, lacing up her breeches. A woman who looked foreign—skinny with curly blonde hair—crawled naked from the bed within. Theon raised his eyebrows at Asha, who only laughed. "You're not the only one who can have fun, little brother," she reminded him.

Theon ignored it. "You were meant to speak with Father this morning." He closed Asha's door behind her as they started up the stairs.

"And I will," she replied. "It's still morning."

It wasn't, but Theon knew better than to say it. "If you cannot convince him, then I will have to get Sansa and Arya off of Pyke. They are not safe here so long as Father is against them."

"I know, I know." Asha waved him off. "Just give me a moment with him, and everything will be fine." Near the top of the stairwell, she stopped to hit her palm gently against Theon's face. "Don't look so sullen," she instructed, and then she went up to their father's solar.

Theon waited, tried desperately to make out what they were saying, but the walls echoed some words and swallowed others, which made it impossible for Theon to understand. When he heard the word, "Pregnant?" shouted with such anger that the castle shook, he knew his world was collapsing. "Theon," his father's voice came again. "Get in here."

It made Theon feel like a little boy again, about to face an upbraiding like no other. He tried not to think too much about it; he had to be strong for Sansa and for Arya. And for the baby.

"Father," he greeted Balon Greyjoy as he stood over his long table. The old man picked up his book and hurled it across the room at Theon, who ducked quickly enough  to avoid it.

Asha sat down in their father's big chair. "I'll let you explain yourself, little brother," she mused, removing a dagger from her waistband and spinning it between two fingers.

Theon smoothed down the front of his doublet, cleared his throat, and searched for an explanation. Finally, he said, "Your grandchild will not survive on Pyke without your support. If we do not frighten the Lannisters into giving up Sansa—"

"You think I give a bloody fuck what happens to your whore and her bastard child?" his father shouted. "The bitch means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me."

Theon looked to Asha, but she offered no support.

"I care only for these islands," Balon went on. "And these islands are without a fucking heir." He stormed closer to Theon. "You're a Northern cunt, your sister's a woman, and my only good sons are dead."

Theon was certain his father wanted it to hurt, but Theon felt nothing. He had no love for the Iron Islands or his father—all he wanted was to protect Sansa and Arya and his child. If he had to swallow his pride and grovel, he would do it. Nothing else mattered.

Balon spoke for him. "I will help your bitch and her cunt sister," he snapped, to Theon's dismay, "on the condition that, should she give birth to a boy, you will leave him here to be raised as mine own son to make up for the three I have lost. You'll marry the Stark girl and make the bastard a Greyjoy."

Marrying Sansa was all Theon wanted, but he could not sacrifice their child to suffer at the hands of Balon Greyjoy. Still, it would do Theon no good to give away his position then, so he asked, "What if it's a girl?"

"Then I'll throw her into the ocean and let the Drowned God take her," his father muttered. "And then I'll drown your whore wife with my bare hands."

He succeeded in igniting Theon's anger. It was what he wanted, Theon was certain. If this was his only choice, then he would take the bait. That did not mean he would ever follow up on his end of the bargain. Still, Sansa would be angry with him if she found out he had offered up their child.

She never has to know, Theon reminded himself.

"I will accept your terms," he declared.

Asha sat up. "You what?" she yelled.

Balon Greyjoy did not react to his daughter's voice, only grinned at Theon, who inquired, "Can you arrange for us to be married by the morrow?"

His father nodded. "I'll send for your uncle Aeron."

It had been years since Theon thought of the man, a skeleton with hair white as snow. In his last few years at home, Theon recalled his uncle's descent into fanaticism. The Drowned God was all that occupied him, so he spoke of becoming a priest. Evidently, he had succeeded in his endeavor. Marriages on Pyke were grim affairs—and would be made even grimmer by Aeron's presence, Theon imagined.

"You will send word to Robb Stark at Winterfell," Theon commanded. "Tell him you forced Sansa to marry your heir, and you will never return her or Arya unless the King returns the Islands to freedom. If Robert Baratheon is a true friend to Ned Stark, he will not refuse your demands."

Balon Greyjoy lifted his head. "On the morrow," he agreed. "If you do not fulfill your end of our agreement, Theon, you will watch them all die." He stared blankly at his only son. "They will not be clean deaths."

When he said it, Theon's fist tightened hard at his side. He considered cutting his father down then and there; he was old and weak, and even with a bad arm, Theon could finish him. Asha would not hesitate to slit his throat after, but at least Sansa and Arya would be safe.

Instead, Theon just said, "You have my word."

He left.