There was a knock at his door. "Come in," Theon called. He tossed his soiled tunic to the floor and rummaged in the chest for a clean one.
An auburn head poked into the room. "Theon, we're playing wedding. I need you to marry me," Sansa said.
Theon had been about to head into town with Jory and some of the men. He was sixteen now, a man, and he no longer had to sneak away to partake in wine and whores. He could do as he pleased. He did not have time to play games with small children.
Still, he hesitated to refuse outright, unwilling to hurt her feelings. The eight year old was well-mannered and she treated him with all the courtesy he was due as a high lord's son and heir, which was more than could be said for most of them. "What about your brothers?" he asked.
"They're my ibrothers/i, they can't marry me. Only Targaryens do that."
"What about..." He started to suggest some servant's child, then he stopped and cursed silently. Most of the castlefolk with young children had daughters. There were a few young stablehands, but he could imagine little Sansa's reaction if he suggested she play at marrying a stable boy. 'Tis was a pity Lord Stark didn't have any pages or squires.
Theon found a clean tunic and pulled it over his head. He was still trying to think of an alternative to suggest.
"Not that one," Sansa said. "You have to wear your best clothes for our wedding. Wear the black one with the kraken embroidered on the front."
Theon noted for the first time that she was wearing a new dress. The dress was deep blue in color, surely chosen by Lady Stark for how well it flattered the coloring she shared with her children. Well, not all her children. The younger girl had Lord Stark's dark hair and grey eyes rather than her mother's pretty coloring. Probably why the brat clung to her dour bastard brother like a barnacle.
Sansa was the prettier of Lord Stark's daughters, as well as the better behaved one. One day Lord Stark would have to send him home to take his place as Lord of Pyke, and sending one of his own beloved daughters along as Theon's bride would be a good political move. If Theon hoped to marry little Sansa in truth some day, then perhaps he ought to play with her now. If she grew to be fond of him, it was all the more likely that her father would wed her to him. And it would be nice to have a friend in the Stark family other than Robb.
"All right," Theon said. "But only the wedding. I can't stay for the feast." He found his best tunic at the bottom of the chest and changed into it.
"Gage gave us an apple pie to serve at the feast," she told him. "But if a wicked prince is attacking our castle, then of course you must go fight him as soon as we're married."
The wedding was in her mother's bower. Jeyne Poole played the septon and recited the vows for them to repeat. Arya Stark insisted on playing the role of her lord father, pointing out that she was older than Bran and anyway he was too little to walk arm-in-arm with Sansa. Sansa used her mother's bridal cloak as a maiden's cloak, and Theon was forced to drape his plain green cloak around her shoulders.
She beamed happily at him. Theon kissed her on the cheek, and then he bowed. "Forgive me, my lady, I must go battle a most foul villain."
"Be brave, my sweet lord," she called. She added, "I'll save you a slice of pie from the feast."
When he had complained about how boring his lessons were, Maester Luwin had told him to think of them as an investment in the future. Reading ledgers and memorizing heraldry were unappealing chores now, but he would need the knowledge when he was lord paramount of the Iron Isles. Theon decided to think of Sansa the same way. Charming the child today might lead to having a loving and lovely wife one day.