The nights in the North were cold, and the land showed no sign of the ocean that the Ironborn belonged to. The Drowned God felt miles away as Theon attended dinner in the Great Hall of the castle in Winterfell. The hunt had done him good, having blown some steam off, but the light snow had made him damp and sulky.

He arrived late for the dinner even though he knew that Catelyn Stark hated that. She was a cold woman, he thought, and they never spoke. Maybe she was growing tired of seeing her husband taking in children who were not hers.

The Hall was lit with torches and candles, and the heat combined with the humid bodies covered the Hall in a funny and a little unpleasant scent. He was standing by the entrance, watching the Stark family sitting together by the great table. Ned's seat was left empty next to Catelyn, who sat lean and erect in her deep blue dress with that pouting mouth of hers that made her look older. Theon walked towards her and gave her a nod. She stared back without showing any kindness in her expression. Robb was sitting on her left side with his big grin, and next to him there was supposed to be an empty seat – Bran's chair – but the chair was not empty. It was occupied by a broad and forceful woman with dark hair tied up away from her face. She was not wearing a dress but was in men's clothing. Theon almost winced seeing Yara mingle like that with the Starks. Robb was entertaining her, and she was occasionally sending him back a smile; she did not often smile, so it took Theon by surprise.

He felt a little bit disgusted but did not want to linger there. His gaze started wandering past Catelyn and Ned's empty chair and there Sansa was – sitting a little bit on her own since neither her father nor sister, Arya, were present. She did not seem to mind the solitude, however, as her best friend Jeyne Pool was sitting just below her, communicating without words. The northerners were very strict about conduct and behavior, so of course Sansa and Jeyne could not sit together. It did however surprise Theon that Yara was allowed to take absent Bran's place. Normally Yara and Theon would sit furthest away from the center, on Sansa's and Arya's side, and Rickon sat beside Bran, and at the end Jon Snow. He was present too, sitting and brooding over his meal, clearly in deep thoughts. It is probably about that mother of his, Theon thought to himself, as it was all he ever seemed to think about. Jon Snow was Ned Stark's bastard, and Theon had always wondered why Ned had never told this bastard who his mother was. To Theon it must be horrible not to know your heritage. He smiled, as he thought about his own – the heir to the proud, wild and hard Iron Islands. He knew he was important, and he also knew that Jon Snow did not feel the same way about himself. Needless to say, it made him gloat.

Theon started moving again towards his regular seat, but the fact that Yara had "moved up", made him feel defiant – he wanted to do the same. With his eyes fixed on Arya's seat, he moved past those present of lesser rank like Jeyne Poole and her family. He did not look at them, but when reaching the end of the table, he felt uncomfortable. He froze for a second and watched Sansa, whose place was next to Arya's. He almost choked a little bit when he gazed upon her. No, he said to himself, you have the same status as her. She did not notice him at all, even though he was standing only a few feet from her. She had a very upright posture and very ladylike manners. Her red hair was tied back with small bows in light blue colours, complementing the redness of her hair and showing off her smooth skin and beautiful features. She smiled a lot and giggled silently to Jeyne, all the time aware of her mother's harsh eagle eyes.

"My lady", Theon then said, stepping closer as he pulled out Arya's chair. Sansa looked at him, distressed. For some reason a smile escaped his face.

"Theon", she said with ambiguity in her voice, like she did not know how to react. Jeyne made a grimace that suggested the silly mind of teenage girls. Sansa looked at her first and then at Theon, trying to smother a grin that was not suitable.

"You are late for dinner", she then said. She spoke eloquently and had a beautiful voice. It distracted him from feeling annoyed that she used his first name, and he had to call her Lady.

"Your beauty stole away my time", Theon then quoted the poetry book he had snatched from Sansa's room. In secret, he often visited her chambers when she was not there. Sometimes he would just lie in her bed, feeling high from the faint scent of her that the bedding still carried, and other times he would snoop around to find her diary or letters.

Theon had not rehearsed this at all, and having said the words, he immediately regretted it. He just hoped that no one had heard him. Well, he was wrong, as silence fell at the Stark table as soon as his words were audible. All eyes turned to him.

"What?", Sansa was the first to break the silence. She looked at him, confused, but nonetheless giving him her full attention. Then a widespread laughter burst out. Theon looked up, watching Jon Snow with a greater smile on his face than he had ever seen before, and soon the laughter spread like wildfire. He looked at Robb and Yara. Robb laughed quietly and politely where Yara almost squealed of delight. It was easy to detect the mocking tone.

Theon still said nothing. He just stood there like an involuntarily fool.

"Here I thought you felt like this about me?", Jon Snow's voice then sounded. "I am hurt", he continued, getting up while smiling from ear to ear. The laughter became louder. Even Catelyn Stark was unable to keep a straight face.

"Enough!", Yara's voice then sounded, penetrating the room. Theon felt some kind of gratefulness, and he hated it. Every eye turned to Theon's sister now as she rose in all her might. Robb seemed impressed and looked at her like a king looks at his queen – Theon did not fail to notice this too, even if his mind was preoccupied with his own torture.

"Leave my brother alone", she continued, and everybody went quiet. Then the crowd's eyes turned from sister to brother, and Theon did not look as put together as Yara. He never did, and it annoyed him dearly.

Yara was still standing up, looking straight at him. He looked briefly at her before grabbing his plate on the table, and then he left. He wanted it to be a stormy but strong outmarch, but the humiliation hit him and he did not leave as worthily as he had hoped. Having left the Hall, he stopped and leaned against the wall with his heart pounding, listening: Silence – utter silence. That made him breathe easier. No one had resumed the laughing. No one had defied Yara. Theon felt grateful and disappeared to his chambers.

The shame haunted Theon the rest of the night. He quickly ate his dinner and sat down on his bed. He did not even bother to light any candles. He just lay there, staring out of his window, gazing over the dark fields. More than ever he contemplated the thought of running away, but he also knew that running away was not fit for a Lord. But he could not face more of these northerners. They had insulted him greatly, and he did not feel he was able to bounce back from this defeat.

I need to kill them all. The way of the Ironborn, and first of all Jon Snow, Theon thought to himself. At once, the spark was reignited inside his eyes, and he sat up. The thought filled him with atrocious joy. It was what he wanted to do anyway, but now he had a reason. We do not sow, he whispered to himself and relished the sound of the words.

His plans were interrupted by a knock on the door. It startled him and he almost dropped his cup of wine. He did not speak. Another couple of knocks, and still he did not reply.

"Theon? I know you are in there. It is Sansa", a voice then said, and he flinched. He tried not to breathe in order for her not to hear him.

"Theon, please?", she almost begged, and the fair voice made its way through the door to his ears. It was like angels singing.

"Theon, please. I don't mind. What you did… Well, it was sweet, really", she then said with hesitation in her voice. Theon moved silently to the door and pressed his face against the wood.

"Theon?", she repeated and he could almost feel her warm breath. "I won't leave until you come out", she continued, and her stubbornness surprised him. Still, he did not want to face the reason of his humiliation, so he did nothing but stand there.

Then, suddenly, he heard light steps leaving, and he sighed with relief and maybe a bit of regret too. He walked slowly to the bed again and sat down with his head deeply bowed. Silence occupied the room briefly until he heard a scraping sound outside his room. He could hear someone moaning, doing some heavy work. The same light steps from before returned, and he could hear light fabric moving.

"I am waiting outside for you", Sansa's voice then called, and he realized that she had moved a chair in front of the door. There was no escape from her now, and already the embarrassment ate him up from inside. He started pacing back and forth in his room before throwing a silent tantrum for no one to see. We are Ironborn. We take what is ours, he then whispered and forced some courage into himself. Without further thought, Theon went to the door and opened it. He held his breath as he saw Sansa. I have been around her for ten years; I can be normal around her now still, Theon said to himself and looked at the redheaded Stark girl. She was sitting in the chair, wearing a silver-grey, formfitting dress. Her skin looked ever so beautifully pale, making her long, red hair stand out. The sudden opening of the door startled her, and she looked anxious.

"Sorry, My Lady, I did not mean to frighten you", Theon then said, avoiding her gaze. She stood up.

"No, Theon, it is alright", she said with her soft voice. Silence fell for a moment, both feeling awkward.

"Uhm... Theon… I am not angry at all", Sansa then said, pressing her lips together when she spoke.

"I am sorry for my outburst. It was of course inappropriate", he said the way he had been taught. Admittedly, he hated how he had been schooled, and how he actually played by those rules. He knew a true Ironborn would never follow the rules of a Stark, even if would cost him dearly to defy them.

"No, I am flattered, really", Sansa then said, reaching out for his hands. He was not ready, so he was not quick enough to move his hands away before she got a hold of them. He moaned, but not in pleasure.

With a firm grasp around Theon's dirty hands, she moved closer to him. The lovely scent from her hair reached Theon's nostrils before she had barely moved, and automatically he sniffed in the smell of her.

"But my heart belongs to someone else", she continued, leaning in so close that she whispered the last words into his ear. Her lips almost touched his cheek, and he felt his entire body shake. He was standing very stiffly, not moving at all. He had to force himself to look at her. Her beautiful blue eyes looked like those deep oceans the Ironborn were so fond of, and for a moment Theon found himself falling vigorously into them. She leaned in closer and kissed him on his cheek. Her lips felt like the sun coming out in Winterfell, and they left an invisible mark on his skin that burned marvelously. He knew he was Ironborn and not supposed to feel like this. Feeling this kind of ecstasy would make him weak like a smitten girl, but he could not keep himself from indulging. He closed his eyes for a moment before hearing the true meaning of her words. That made him wake up instantly.

"What? Someone else?", he said, short of breath and pulled away. Her eyes were filled with something that looked like regret, but she still held his hands.

"Yes, Theon. I love someone else, but that does not mean that I don't like you", she then said, and he could hear the despair in her voice.

"So you do like me?", he asked, all confused and tried to pull away his hands, but she did not let him go.

"Theon?", she then said, and he stopped his struggle. She favored him with another look of her stunning beauty, and he could have been watching that view forever. Again, he knew that if anyone found out, they would consider him weak and girlish. A man was not supposed to show feelings. He remembered his legacy and ripped away his hands.

"I like you as a brother", she then said, clearly trying not to upset him.

"A brother? We are not family", he replied, remembering his heritage. Ironborn were not subjects to anyone.

"Theon, please", Sansa begged and reached out for him again, but this time he remained strong.

"We will never be family", he then said harshly and turned around, but before opening the door to his room, he turned around again.

"Theon, I did not mean to upset you", Sansa tried to plead with him. It almost worked. Her voice was soft like summer grass in King's Landing or like the first waves of spring forcing its way over the rocky coastline of Pyke.

"Is it Jon? Jon Snow?", he then asked in a calm voice on the verge of cracking. A tear came to her eye and she nodded. His heart sank and he left her. The truth hurt more than the guessing. He now knew which Stark would be the first to fall before his blade, and it was not even a real Stark…