The ritual of kissing before they both fell asleep had started by Sansa giving Theon a chaste kiss on the cheek then progressed to chaste kisses on the lips. Now she lay on her back with Theon kissing every inch of exposed porcelain white skin. His lips travelled back to her mouth. Sansa tried not to make a little moan or sigh as Theon always had to stop kissing her and walk away. We have to do some things properly, love. They broke apart for moment.
"I'm going to miss you, once we make it to White Harbor." Theon smiled and laughed.
"I am going with you, remember. Unless your plan is to leave me at port." Sansa smiled and sighed.
"I know. What I meant is that I am going to miss this," whispered Sansa as she placed his arm around her waist and she leant in for a kiss.
"Ah," nodded Theon as if he had forgotten their sleeping arrangements would have to change until their wedding night. "We'll be married soon enough. Then we'll get properly married in eyes of the Drowned God whenever we go back to my home." There was some bitterness in his voice. Sansa put a hand on his cheek gently.
"When you told me that Robb had given you permission to marry me. I thought we were going to be married here on the ship."
"Here?" He gestured to the unmade bed they were laying in a teasing manner. "I suppose it's an efficient spot." Sansa blushed at the innuendo and how his dark eyes darkened to almost black. She had been worrying that their wedding would make Robb uncomfortable as he was likely turned off by weddings but did not mention it to Theon. Sansa was both excited and nervous whenever he looked at her like that but to her dismay and relief, he only tucked the blankets around her and whispered, "Please be a good girl and go to sleep." Theon grumpily had wake up early drunk or not as he was the captain.
Theon jerked up awake into a sitting position when he heard the bell and members of the crew shouting. Loud groans of the waves hitting the side of the ship vibrated. We had done so well to avoid storms. Theon scrambled out of bed to put on his boots and long black jacket. He heard Sansa stir.
"What's happening?" asked Sansa from behind. He felt one of her small pale hands touch his shoulder.
"We sailed into a storm," he answered grimly. The rain was pouring hard on the glass windows.
"What can I do?" Theon stood up and walked to her side of the bed. He leant down and kissed her hard. He could hear Old Tom knocking on the door urgently.
"Stay here, love. You may look like mermaid but I'd rather not see you go overboard. Stay inside the cabin." Theon stroded out of the cabin and closed the door behind him. He started barking orders at two young sailors who looked terrified. Their first storm. Theon ran up the steps to take over manning the wheel from Will. He had been out there for less than five minutes and he was soaked. Theon shouted but he wondered if he could be heard over the thunderous rain. He grimaced with effort to steer them out of the storm. Old Tom and the others were scrambling to maintain control of the lower deck and not get swept overboard. Theon was focused turning the ship away from the thunder and lightening ahead.
"Yer lady is on deck," yelled Old Tom. Theon almost let go of the wheel as he spotted her bright red hair and cream-colored nightgown. You were supposed to stay inside the cabin. Sansa almost slipped as she walked up the steps to him. Her hair darkened with the rain and her night shift was clinging to her and was not opaque due to the thinness of the material. He bit his lip from shouting like a reproving septa clucking at her for not donning one of his cloaks. He wanted to shake her and kiss her all at the same time. If she dies…well Robb will be crushed.
"Get back in the cabin Sansa!" he shouted harshly. "You'll catch a chill. Or—" I'll jump into the sea if you fall in. She didn't hear him or simply didn't listen as she tried to run to him but the rockiness of the ship threw her off balance. He tensed but she got up and reached him thankfully. He kissed her soaked hair in relief as she grabbed his waist. Her blue eyes looked up him.
"I couldn't—"
"Hold on to me or the wheel," barked Theon wrenching his eyes from her face and her chest. Sansa put her hands over his own that were tightly gripping the wheel from spinning on it's own accord.
"I thought there was only storms like this in the Stormlands," cried Sansa. Theon smiled at her naiveté's. I wish.
Sansa shrank slightly as Theon entered their cabin after he went to reassess the damages left by the storm. His dark eyes were angry and he wasn't smiling at her. Sansa had waited for him by laying out some dry clothes and put the upturned furniture and fallen objects back in their proper place.
"That was foolish of you. Did you not hear those men who fell overboard?" She looked away feeling chastised.
"I wanted to make sure you weren't one of them." He said nothing in response.
"Take that gown off," sighed Theon. She blinked in surprise and remembered she was still in her drenched nightgown. He wasn't smiling but his eyes and jawline were less severe. Sansa removed her nightgown with some difficulty as it was plastered to her skin. She turned see Theon facing away from her starting to undress himself. Sansa grabbed his billowy black shirt she had laid out on the bed and slipped it over herself. After donning on some smallclothes, she sat in the middle of the bed. She tried to keep her eyes on her hands but she glanced curiously at her betrothed's naked form particularly his backside. He was tall and lean muscled. He was pale though it may be because he had lived in the north for many years. She kept her eyes on him from the waist up when he turned to pull on the trousers. Theon made a noise when he saw her in his shirt. His eyes flickering over her long bare legs made her feel warm in her stomach.
"I'm sorry that I worried you," she apologized softly.
"Well Robb would have killed me if I let you die on my watch," he offered staring at the space over her head looking uncomfortable. "Let's hope you don't get ill." He blew out his candle, lay down on his side of the bed and pulled the blankets up over him. "Never taking you out to sea again. I now understand why some men think it's unlucky to bring a woman aboard." Sansa knew his tone was light but nevertheless his words stung.
"Maybe, you won't ever have to again. I might marry Willas Tyrell or someone else like—Lord Umber's son Smalljon instead. Margaery's brother sent me a necklace." She was given a necklace but not from the heir of Highgarden.
"Why would another marriage between the Starks and the Tyrells be necessary?" scoffed Theon. Sansa failed to think of an answer.
"I don't know but maybe I'd rather marry someone else since I'm unfit for life at sea." She lay back and dramatically tugged the blankets away.
"What did the necklace look like?" asked Theon. She frowned remembering the diplomatic visits of Ser Garlan the Gallant.
"It was green. Emeralds I believe. I left it behind in King's Landing though."
"You never mentioned it before." His voice was strange.
"It clashed with my hair and eyes. Perhaps if I had green eyes like the Lannisters or brown hair like the Tyrells but it didn't mean anything to me after Robb married Margaery." He spooned her, kissing the nape of her neck and her damp hair.
"You'll both live happily ever after like one of those songs."
"I don't know I think I may prefer a gold and black necklace." She felt him grin and adjust his large tunic on her shoulder. She also felt him sniff her, which made her giggle softly.
"You smell like the sea," he murmured against her neck, making her wish that he gave up on being honorable just once more.
Lord Wyman Manderly's granddaughters and Sansa walk around New Castle arm in arm. The Manderly girls were on either side of her.
"Oh, it must be dreadful to free from the Lannisters then to be married to a squid," exclaimed Wylla the younger of the two sisters.
"Sister! I apologize my princess. Lord Theon is quite handsome and seems kind. It must be advantageous to know him so well—"
"Lord?" Sansa turned her head to the brown haired young woman.
"We received news of Lord Balon's death. Lord Grandfather told him the night you arrived," answered Wynafryd.
"Did he not tell you?" No. In fact she did not know where he was at the moment. Wynafryd pinched her sister.
"Oh, yes he did. I forgot. I am having trouble getting use to being called princess," Sansa lied airily. "And excitement of seeing my brother the King."
"Everyone is elated that you have returned to the North."
"Thank you, Lady Wynafryd." Sansa walked with them down a corridor leading to the stairwell to the guest chambers she and Theon were occupying. She excused herself from their company. As she climbed up the steps she heard Lady Wylla Manderly's thin voice,
"Did you see the bruises on Princess Sansa's neck?"
"Wylla, you shouldn't remark on such things. You don't know what awful things she must have endured at King's Landing. Tis a blessing from the Warrior to give Lord Greyjoy the gumption to brave King's Landing alone to save her. You shouldn't mock Lord Greyjoy he is our guest and a loyal friend of our King." Sansa couldn't hear Wylla's response. Sansa flushed, she had thought her long hair and higher neckline gowns had covered the love marks.
Theon whistled as he strode along the corridor to the chamber he was occupying.
"Where have you been?" called Sansa. He spun around.
"Attending to business. Letters to Robb, my sister and making sure everything is ready for our journey to Winterfell. Miss me, love?" He touched her chin.
"Why didn't you tell me your lord father died? I thought you might be distraught." Our fathers are not alike.
"He did not mourn me when I was taken away. Why would I mourn his death?" he spoke harshly, full of bitterness knowing what Balon thought of him from Mallister's failed envoy. Sweet Sansa seemed taken aback.
"But you were his last son." He smiled humorlessly.
"My lord father didn't think much of his own lord father, if that makes it any more understandable." She frowned sadly and hugged him.
"Lord Theon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Isles," she tested out with the side of her face pressed against his jerkin. His place as an outsider was dissolving with Balon Greyjoy's death and impending union with the pretty being in his arms. He wouldn't have to choose between being a Greyjoy and wanting to be a Stark.
"Lady Sansa Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Isles, Princess of Winterfell. My rock wife." She beamed at him and kissed him hotly then pulled away.
"Almost," she called over her shoulder as she went into her chamber.
A/N: sorry if the whole storm part was awk. I totally blanked on ship terminology.
