I never planned this far ahead. His dark eyes drifted from the cool dry sand beneath his mangled feet to the wet sands, kissed by the receding tide. I never thought I would have to plan this far ahead.

By all logic, he should have died a long time ago. I should have died many times over. But he hadn't. He had almost ended it himself numerous times, but each time, something always held him back.

He had spent long hours in solitude sitting below the century old pines, mulling over the latent thing that kept him pinned to his state of existence, the thing that kept him from leaving this life for another.

He still did not know what held him.

He closed his eyes to the darkening seascape and breathed in the thick, salty air. They do not look the same, but they sound the same. The sea. His one time home. He could never go back to Pyke or any of the Iron Isles. He realized the notion no longer caused him any grief, and wondered why.

He opened his eyes and watched waves reach their apex, crash into each other, collapse, and run themselves ashore. He walked to the shoreline and let the sea lick his ugly feet and drag the surrounding sand back to sea. I could let the waves carry me out to sea, he mused forlornly. I would surely dine with the Drowned God if I did. He though he really might do it this time. I am no longer needed in this realm. If I ever was. His very existence had brought more ill than good.

He heard bare feet patting on sand close behind him, the roar of the sea hiding their steady approach until now. Tensing, he unsheathed his dagger. But when he turned around, it was only her. She wore only a blue wool shall and cream colored shift that only just brushed the bottoms of her knees. The boulders that lay between the pine trees wrung about the shore sat as though they were the backdrop of her portrait.

Her hair was short, though not as short as his. His was three inches of stiff white bristles, punctuated with asymmetrical patches of smooth black tresses. It made him look like a spotted sow. But the girl said it was charming. She and himself had both shaved their heads after acquiring lice during the voyage east. He had found more in his beard than on his head, and had shaved that off too. He had not let it ever grow back.

She was beside him now, the cool surf lapping at their bare ankles. He usually enjoyed the silence shared between himself, the girl and the sea. Not this time. He was acutely aware of why she had sought him out on the obscure stretch of coast this evening. The war is over. What now? He hadn't the slightest belief that he would live to have to even think about the notion. And now...

A spray of sea and wind hit his face like a wet slap, jerking him away from his thoughts and into the present. He finally acknowledged the girl's presence, turning his head and watching her rub her eyes with the heels of her palms as she attempted to remove whatever objects the wind had blown into them. When she finished, she did not even look at him. She kept her eyes forward and groped blindly for his hand. Theon inadvertently smiled as her damp, sandy fingers laced themselves between the three digits and the two stumps of his left hand.

As he watched her, she never once looked back at him. Never said a word, never glanced away from the receding surf. She is what holds me to this life. I cannot leave before her. It made sense. He loved her. Not in the sense that a man loves a woman, rather in the sense that a person loves another person. She'd seen him at his best and been with him at his worst. He doubted he had ever been closer with a human being.

"It's over, you know." Jeyne said it in a very matter of fact tone, almost sounding bored. At first he thought she spoke of the receding tide, then he recalled why he had come to this far outreach of the shore. To avoid this.

He knew it was over. Though he did not know the outcome, he couldn't have cared less of it.

"And, you've been avoiding me." It was true, he had been. Though he did not care to open his mouth and confirm as much, nor did he wish to be dishonest. He kept his mouth closed. Wordlessly, she was in front of him, placing her hands on either side of his arms.

"Whatever it is that we end up doing," the wind took her shawl and gave it to the sea. Theon made to go in after it, but the grip on his arms was a firm one. He looked into her eyes, and for a split second he was back in Winterfell, on the day of her wedding. The day she had first come to him for help. She saw through Reek, she saw Theon, she had asked Theon for help. It was the day he had looked looked into her big brown eyes and done nothing. Then it was gone. And he was back on the shore with Jeyne, discussing a subject he had been avoiding for a fortnight. Jeyne though, had no flashbacks when she looked into his eyes. Only sad memories she couldn't quite recall. Not missing a beat, she said "I just want to go with you. Wherever it is you end up." She paused and watched the nervousness and unease vaporise from his face. "I don't care what we do or where we stay, I just want to stay with you." She moved a hand to his face and he smirked with a air of poorly concealed smugness. "You would really want a life with a disgraced Greyjoy?" He wasn't even trying to keep the smug off his face now. Jeyne pursed her lips in mock distaste.

Theon smiled. It was something that he did easily now, as he once had. "Where do you want to go?" Quick as ever and without any hesitation Jeyne replied "It's not about the destination." She looked at him cryptically. "It's the journey you tell tales of."

With that, she turned around and smiled at the sea.