Sansa walked through the courtyard in Winterfell, the snow finally fluttering to a slight stop. She focused on her cold breath in the air, trying to forget the many memories she once spent here in her home; that's now surrounded by strangers. But she couldn't escape the surroundings that reminded her so much of her past.
Myranda led her to the dog kennels, opening the door and handed her the key. What was she supposed to be looking for? Sansa thought, whilst she grasped the key tight her palm.

Out of curiosity she slowly moved down the dark, damp kennels, staying closer to the wall keeping away from the snarling dogs that yapped as she walked past. The noise bounced off the walls, enclosing her, reminding her that she was now trapped in a place she used to love. Each cage she walked past she found herself glancing inside, uncertain of what to expect. That's when she came to the last cage, the door swung wide open yet nothing came charging out. She turned the corner to stand in the door way and her breath got caught in her throat at when she saw.

A man, crippled and shaking on the floor. His hands holding his head as he laid in a foetus position like he was protecting himself from the devil. His hair was a knotted nest and he was dressed in rags that look like they hadn't been washed for months. Sansa felt a shiver run down her spine, her mouth drying out.

A dog rattled the cage next door, causing the figure to jump up. That's when fractured grey eyes met hers for the first time since forever.

"Theon," she rasped, barely audible.

He just stared up at her, filling her with emptiness, as he drew himself away from her shaking his head.

No. This was not Theon Greyjoy. Not the Theon she once knew…


Young Sansa stood over Theon with a childish grin on her face. He was a few years older than her and he'd only been at Winterfell for just as little as a year now, but he was now very well aquatinted with the Stark children, joining in on their many games in the courtyard to pass the time. They'd just been playing a game of Fortress, where they had to capture the other teams base before their own was captured, and it was girls against boys (after Arya sulked stating the unfairness in numbers Jon joined the girls, whilst Robb, Theon and Bran were on the other. Lady Catelyn Stark wasn't pleased with Bran being involved so young but they promised no harm would come of him). They had been playing for over half an hour now, no success for either teams were as of yet.

That was until a few minutes ago when Theon grabbed Sansa by the shoulders, confining her from running, as she let out a struggling squeal. His plan was to use her as distraction whilst his other team mates could sneakily get the other base. She fought against his hands that just tightened on her and they couldn't help but burst into laughter, neither of them willing to be the first to give in. But Arya then came running out of nowhere: "Get off my sister!" she chanted as she charged at Theon tripping him up, causing him to let go of Sansa and fall to the floor. Arya pulled a funny face at him before running off after Robb who was heading towards the girls base.

Sansa stood over Theon now, he looked up at her with cheeky smile and her own smile matched his. She put her hands on her hips, making her skirt flare out further in wild ways, and started to slowly circle Theon. He knew he could just easily jump up and run away, but that wouldn't be as fun, he wanted to see what she had in store. Sansa wasn't like Arya, she didn't want to fight or get dirty, but she liked playing fortress, it made her feel like a damsel in distress waiting for her knight in shining armour. At this age, this is the closest she could get. Plus it was fun!

"You know," she started in an over the top posh accent that never faltered, "you should never man handle your Queen."

She carried on circling him as he laid on the floor, never breaking eye contact. Her hair had been plaited tightly so none of it would escape and get in the way of the game, but it suited her.

"Well I'm sorry my Queen," he got up and kneeled in front of her and put his hand forward, "how can I ever make it up to you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she went into a deep thought, her lip slightly pouty showing her naïve age. She then stood right in front of him and stuck out her left leg so her foot was right in his face.

"You may tie my shoe."

He looked down at her small little boot, protecting her feet from the mud and stone, and noticed the lace hanging loosely. He lightly held her ankle and moved it to rest on her knee as he done up the lace. She watched him intently as she'd never seen him touch anything so delicately before. He doubled the bow, leaving her foot where it was, and looked back up at her.

"There you go, my majesty."

He stood up slowly, her foot retracting back under her skirt, he once again towered over her.

"Why thank you, kind sir," she let out a giggle, thinking about what all the princesses do in her stories and kissed his cheek in thanks.

He froze for a second, startled, before letting a mischievous grin fill his lips; "Quick, run! I'll give you a 10 second head start!"

Sansa let out another squeal as she turned and ran as fast as she could, her cloak rushing in the wind behind her.


But now that was Theon Greyjoy crumpled to the floor, reduced from life and thrown down to the dogs.

His bottom lip trembled, fear evoked in his eyes, "You shouldn't be here."

Her jaw tightened, fingers gripping the rustic caged door tighter, causing a lump to form in her throat. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins, ready to burst. Her eyes steeled over, and she stuck out her chin, holding her head up high.

Sansa turned swiftly, her now dark hair whipping over her shoulder, as she marched out of the kennel, never looking back once, as her cloak flapped behind her in the harshness of the wind.


AN: Please leave a review so I know your thoughts and opinions whether I should carry on?