Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 79

Sansa
Kal lay bleeding on the floor—a grin forever frozen on his face. When it was over, Sansa cried out in anguish, so broken and disturbed that she didn't know how she would draw another breath. All she could do was scream Theon's name.

The moment he had finished Kal of No Name, Theon ran to her, hands wet with blood. He whispered, "It's all right, lovely, I'm here now. You're safe."

Sansa let him carry her from the corridor and carefully down the tower stairs. After Sansa had told Theon's sister that Harrag was another one of her captors, Asha seemed to know who the other two must have been, and she'd left in a hurry to punish them.

As Theon eased his way around every curve of the stairway, he brushed the back of Sansa's neck with his hand, whispering every few steps that he was here now to keep her safe. "No one will hurt you again," he promised, but Sansa feared it was too late for her, that she would never recover from her days in captivity.

Her head ached so badly that she struggled to stay away in Theon's arms. Still, she felt the heat of the sun when they emerged from the tower, and she heard the hush that fell upon the street at the sight of her. A man's voice came close to her. It said, "My Lord, Her Grace says it will be done. The Lady Sansa's chamber will be safe now."

"Tris," Theon replied, "check on Arya, please."

Sansa let herself sleep a moment upon Theon's shoulder, comforted by his warmth and the sweetness of his voice. When she opened her eyes again, he had laid her down upon their bed. It was soft and familiar and so far unlike the cell she had been forced to call home.

Aby came to give her medicine and check on the baby, but Sansa was so dizzy that she hardly felt the hands on her, but someone poured water into her mouth, which helped pull her from her stupor. Theon never got up from his side of the bed; he sat with his hand on Sansa's, and every once in a while, she felt him tighten his grip on her fingers, as if he feared she might slip away again.

The comings and goings of Asha, Arya, and Aby overwhelmed Sansa, so she begged Theon to make it stop. He looked down at her with the green eyes that Sansa had missed so much. "Aby is just taking care of you," he assured her. "She'll bring you some medicine to help the baby. It will be done soon."

Some of the medicine Aby brought was so foul, Sansa could not keep it down on the first try. Arya held onto her hair each time she vomited, while Aby assured her it was all right if she didn't feel better right away. "It doesn't mean the medicine's not working," she promised.

One friend of the Greyjoys, a young man named Cam Goodbrother, served for several years as an apprentice to Maester Wendamyr but had eventually decided against becoming a Maester, according to Theon. Still, Asha and Theon must have considered Cam a safer option than Wendamyr, for it was he who came to help with Sansa's wounds.

When Cam first reached out to touch her, something inside of Sansa fought against it. "No!" she screamed, as if it were Kal or Harrag come to brand or touch her intimately again. She scrambled away from Cam's grasp, pushing back into Theon behind her.

He placed his hand on her waist to keep her steady. "It's all right," he breathed. "Cam only wants to take care of you, too."

Sansa could not bear his hands on her—not yet. "No, no, please," she begged. "Please don't."

Dutifully, Cam Goodbrother stepped away from the bed; when Asha escorted him from the room, Sansa's breathing slowed. Arya, who sat by the window, reminded her that Cam would only have to return later, to make certain none of her wounds festered.

Sansa did not reply. She was in too much pain and filled with too much fear to think about a strange man poking at her—even if Theon and Asha trusted him.

"Lady Alannys?" Sansa breathed, without really meaning to. "Is she all right?"

At the door, Asha faced her feet. She murmured, "Harrag said they strangled her while she slept, threw her body into the sea." Asha Greyjoy sniffled and sighed, "They didn't want anyone else in the tower. Anyone else who might hear—" she hesitated. "Without my mother, the tower was empty. No one would hear you cry for help, my Lady."

For the first time in days, Sansa felt something that was not pain: she felt guilt. So deep and true, she wondered how she ever felt anything else at all. Alannys Harlaw had been her friend—a mother on the island where Sansa had no one. It was her fault the sweet old woman was dead at the bottom of the sea.

"No," Sansa cried, "she made—she made clothes for the baby. Please, you have to go find them. Please!"

Once Asha nodded and left the room, Theon pulled Sansa close to his chest. She remembered believing Joffrey was the cruelest man who had ever lived; it was the belief of a stupid, stupid girl who knew nothing at all.

When Sansa looked to her sister at the window, she found that Arya would not face her. Sansa understood: she was destroyed, not even half the woman she had been a week earlier, and she must have made for an ugly sight. Still, when Arya eventually approached the bed, she rested a gentle hand on Sansa's arm.

"I'll go speak with Aby and Cam," she decided. "And I'll send for a bath. Would that be all right?"

"Yes," Sansa squeaked. "That would be good."

Arya blinked, let a tear fall down her cheek onto Sansa's hand. Then, without glancing back up, she went to the door and left.