Iron and Blood: a Theon & Sansa Story

Chapter 81

Sansa
Cam Goodbrother cleaned and dressed Sansa's wounds as tenderly as he could. When he stitched the worst of them, Sansa cried. Theon was there to hold her, to promise it would be over soon enough, but the pain never went away.

Even when she went to sleep that night in her own bed, with Theon beside her, she stayed awake and sobbed. If she slept, she knew Harrag and Kal would haunt her dreams, just as Joffrey once had.

Theon tried desperately to comfort her through the night, but nothing would help, Sansa knew. No matter how softly he spoke or how gently he touched her skin, Sansa only cried harder. She pulled at her hair until it was filled with knots so tight, it was a wonder she had not torn it all out.

It was then that Theon asked, "Will you let me brush your hair?"

Sansa had told him at Winterfell how much she loved to have Lady Catelyn brush her hair. Even when she was a woman grown, it comforted her, made her feel safe and small and unharmed. Desperate to feel something other than pain, Sansa nodded her agreement.

Theon helped her into a chair beside the bed, where she tucked her knees up into her chest and trembled. As he combed carefully around the sutured gashes upon her scalp, Sansa sighed away some of the pain.

"Aby said the baby will be here soon," Theon remarked, following the hairbrush with his hand.

Sansa let her eyes close and hummed in approval. "I hope I can do it," she murmured.

Theon paused his work to kiss her forehead. "You will," he assured her. "I'll be here with you for everything."

It was some small comfort, Sansa supposed. She reasoned that even childbirth could not compare to what she had suffered now. Still, what if she was not a good mother? She hoped she would be as kind, as gentle, and as brave as her own mother, but she didn't know how. And Lady Catelyn was too far away to help her daughter now.

As if she had spoken it aloud, Theon told her, "We'll bring the baby home to Winterfell soon, too."

Sansa looked up at him. "Home?" she echoed.

"Home," Theon repeated, moving to face her. "If that's what you would want. We can go anywhere."

"What about the prince?" Sansa asked, her voice flat. "What about the Lannisters?"

Theon adjusted a lock of hair close to Sansa's stitches, refusing to meet her gaze. After a moment, he replied, "Your brother is on the verge of war with the Lannisters."

"What?" Sansa snapped. "Robb? Why?"

Theon returned to combing her hair. "They want to make Roose Bolton Warden of the North," he said. "Robb called his men to Winterfell."

"How do you know?" Sansa pressed, more alive than she had been only moments earlier.

She could not have anticipated the words Theon said next: "Because I spoke with him."

"With my brother?" Sansa exclaimed. She grabbed Theon's arm.

He nodded and then suggested, "Let's lay down, and I'll tell you about it."

Sansa knew he wanted her to get sleep; he probably assumed he could talk her into a slumber if he tried hard enough. With the exhaustion in her bones, Sansa knew that he could. She took his hand and returned to the bed, where Theon tucked her carefully beneath the covers before climbing in beside her. With care to avoid her bruises, Sansa nestled close to his chest.

There, Theon explained that he had met with Robb on the mainland. Apparently, talk in the North suggested Robb was gathering men to attack the Iron Islands. Theon knew it could not be true; sensing far worse, he went to treat with Robb himself.

"Did you go to Winterfell?" Sansa asked hopefully, desperate for word of her mother and brothers.

Theon shook his head. "No, but Robb, Bran, and Ser Rodrik rode to meet me," he told her. "They're well—Bran especially."

Hearing it made Sansa's eyes water. She missed her little brothers more than she ever could have imagined. "Did they speak of my mother? And Rickon?"

"I asked after them," Theon replied, brushing Sansa's nose with his finger. "Your mother goes to the sept everyday to pray for you, and Rickon has gotten better with a sword."

Sansa crinkled her nose beneath his touch and smiled for the first time in weeks. "I can't wait to see them again."

"I can't wait either," Theon agreed, smiling too. "Perhaps Rickon will be a good sparring partner for me. I've still only got one good arm."

"Bran rode a horse all the way to meet you?" Sansa asked, and Theon nodded.

"It seems to comes easy to him now," he remarked. "He looks very much like a little lord."

It made Sansa's heart warm. "Did Robb say anything about Jon?" she inquired further.

"They've exchanged letters," replied Theon. "I'm sure he wishes he could fight for Winterfell with the rest of your family."

"He made a vow," Sansa sighed into Theon's shoulder. "I miss him. I miss all of them." She touched Theon gently at the base of his neck, close to his collarbone. "Did you tell them everything?" she asked then.

"Aye," he mumbled, "I did."

He sounded so tired when he said it that Sansa almost chose not to press him any further. Instead she tried, "Was Robb angry with me?"

"With you?" Theon chuckled. "Never. Can't say he's pleased with me for marrying you without his permission."

"And bedding me," Sansa pointed out, which prompted Theon to grumble an agreement. "You did that without his permission, too," she added, closing her eyes. She opened them again to look up at Theon for a moment, and then craned her neck to touch his lips gently with her own. "I love you," she whispered.

Theon, half-asleep, replied that he loved her so much more.