I have seen the sea, Theon Greyjoy
Frost gnawed at her fingertips hungrier than ever before and the black of night was a shade deeper than the last. Yet their brave little lanterns cut through the thick darkness. Born high or low or somewhere in the middle, they huddled close to one another and the fires all guarded by the walls of Winterfell.
They too were sitting close to each other, her and Theon. Their outlines fading into the darkness around them, it was hard to say where one ended and the other begun. Sansa contemplated her surroundings and tried to make out familiar shapes from the shadows.
"My home. Our home. I guess I should have really looked at it while we still had some daylight", she sighed. "I should have counted the windows and turrets while I had the chance. Was the kitchen door painted green or blue? It bothers me that I cannot say."
She was only a little hesitant to speak so freely. Theon was family, after all.
"The kitchen door was painted green", he assured. "Your father made me and Robb paint it once. We had just learned some exciting novel vocabulary from the stablehands and had to find somewhere to practice."
Sansa chuckled.
"Remember how you used to make us play brave knights and a princess in a plight with you?" he went on. "You were standing right over there, I think, waving your handkerchief."
Seeing him like that, brow raised and eyes glimmering with mirth, made her heart stumble. It was a feeling long forgotten.
"Naught but fairy tales and dreams in my head back then. Night after night I dreamt of a hero to take me away from here. The days of dreaming are long gone now. No more fairy tales."
She had been sure that if her faith was strong enough, all of her dreams would come true. With what followed, she had learnt to be more cautious when it came to her dreams.
"If the Gods' will us another dawn, I promise to show you all the wonders in those fairy tales of yours, Lady Sansa", Theon boasted with a voice echoing their childhood. The mock ceremonial face he pulled brought her straight back to the age of nine. She bit her lip not to laugh. Their innocence was something she did not want to jeer at. What she wouldn't give to get it back? Wisdom beyond one's years meant knowing things one should not.
"Is that so? What exactly are you going to show me, Lord Greyjoy?" she asked, playfully shoving his arm beside her. It was mere quips and jests, play on words – yet painfully serious at the same time.
"I will show you the sea."
"I have seen the sea. It was not kind to me", she retorted.
The Narrow Sea had not been narrow at all, she had found. It had been nauseatingly vast instead, and as gray and restless as the young colt Robb had once had, trying to throw everyone off his back.
(On golden days of still and quiet though, the sea had been as blue and bright as Theon's eyes, now watching her relentlessly. Young Greyjoy would have laughed had he known she only liked the sea when others were hastily waiting for the breeze.)
"I'll show you the magnificent castles and the kings and queens behind their walls."
Sansa replied with a short humorless laughter.
"I have seen enough castles, thank you very much. And don't even get me started on queens."
"I'll show you the handsome princes of the faraway lands."
"I have seen a handsome prince, and there was no happy ending."
"I will show you the most glorious silks and dresses then."
"I have seen them as well. They've been ripped from my body and stained with my blood."
"I will show you the most fearless warriors in the known world."
She suddenly turned pale. The face she had studied for countless nights, to hopelessly try and read the sick mind behind it (for the devil you know is better than the the devil you don't), came back to her uninvited and unwelcome.
"I have seen him. I have seen my own fear mirrored in his eyes", she whispered. Her voice was wavering with terror, but she had sworn to stand tall against the memory of him, never again letting it weigh her down.
They fell silent for awhile, both trying to forget the unforgettable. Theon's hand stirred almost unwillingly, made a halt halfway and finally grabbed hers.
"I told you, didn't I?" she said, hardening herself against any tears. "No more dreams. No fairy tales to be told."
"There's still one", Theon said quietly. His cheek reddened.
"The one about a pauper falling in love with a princess."
Sansa said nothing. Instead she bended over him, her face only a bout of boldness away from his.
"With a queen, you must mean", she muttered against his mouth. She pressed her lips on his then, sealing her one last dream with a kiss.
It was a gentle kiss, and a timid one, barely more than a breath. The first brushstroke, she hoped. It was enough to make the blue in Theon's eyes run like a spring river. And when he touched her, she felt the caress of the southwind after a long harsh winter.