Sansa sat staring at the grey seawater on their short journey to Pyke, reflecting on her time with Theon shortly after they sailed from King's Landing. She remembered how she found out after a few days on the ship that Robb had promised her hand in marriage to Theon. Sansa remembered how her reaction was a mixed one. Once, she would have swooned at the romance of Theon rescuing her, his bride to be from terrible monsters. Sansa would have smiled and giggled that it was just like a song if someone told her that was her future. If someone stripped away all the ugly aspects of her captivity at King's Landing, ignored or diminished her trauma from the unjust death of her beloved lord father. The disappearance of her younger sister and the deaths of everyone she knew. Sansa remembered felling suddenly confined in their fairly spacious cabin. Whenever, she had looked at Theon she had wondered to herself,

Would you have come for me if my name and my body weren't a prize to be had?

Sansa had trusted Theon. She felt slightly betrayed, when Old Tom had unknowingly told of her betrothal to her 'rescuer'. Theon glared at her darkly when Sansa spurned his compliments.

"Save your breath, Theon. You got your prize there's no point in pretending you actually care."

"Rather me than the Lannisters or Littlefinger, love. Who else was going to get you out of there, love?" Would he ever stop calling her love?

"Sandor Clegane offered, before the battle," remembered Sansa. Her face was haughty and her blue eyes narrowed at his false endearment. Theon shook his head and laughed. He was such an annoying person.

"The Hound? Well then, why are you with me and not with him?" Sansa did not give him the satisfaction of explaining the story. She walked to the other side of the ship, wondering if she would have made it to her mother and Robb already if she had gone with Clegane.

"Think what you want about me and my intentions, Sansa," snapped Theon tersely. "I could abandon you on some beach and leave you to find your Hound or find your own way back home if I wished."

"Why don't you?" she retorted fiercely. She was at his mercy just like she had been at the Lannisters'. Theon gave her a sidelong glance before staring down at the dark blue water.

"I won't for the same reason why I pushed that brute Myron over. Or are you vastly disappointed that you are to be my bonny bride that being brutalized and drowned is much preferable? Tell me, Sansa." She looked over the edge at the water. Had she suddenly misconstrued every word and action of Theon's?

"Theon," said Sansa with regret to his retreating form. She grabbed his hand allowing him to touch her. After everything she's been through, Sansa still wanted things to be pretty. "I would have much preferred a proposal to be your bonny lady bride." What a callow pair they were.

"Haven't any flowers or lemon cakes." His hands were on her waist like they had been after the bloodied Myron fell into the sea.

"Improvisation is allowed." Theon's lips quirked into a smile.

Theon kissed the crown of her hair. Sansa smiled up at him and turned to hug him.

"We're almost there. Are you cold?" he asked as he bent his head to kiss her. It was windy, but she was used to far colder weather back in the North. His hand went to her flat stomach. She couldn't be more than two moons along thus they hadn't announced yet. Sansa recalled his surprised face and the slow happy grin, when her announcement finally registered.

"I'm fine, Theon." She stared at Pyke, her new castle was series of towers comprised of stone, connected by black-grey stone or swaying rope bridges. It was a marvel that it was standing with how eroded the island's cliff was by the sea. Gulls flew around the island. "Is your sister coming to greet you at the port?"

"No idea," replied Theon as he wrapped his arms around her. Sansa smiled at his hand resting on her flat stomach. Theon's Uncle Aeron, also called Damphair as Sansa came to learn, looked at them.

He spoke, "Don't expect my brother to be bringing the pageantry at your arrival, my lord nephew."

"I should have no expectations of my own kin, my subjects?" muttered Theon with slight humor. His eyes showed his annoyance. However, the Lord of Lordsport, Sawane Botley, welcomed the Lord and Lady of the Iron Isles as they made port. Theon vaulted over the edge of their boat first in a gallant manner to make sure Sansa's dress and feet would not get wet. He lifted her by the waist and kissed her before setting her on the drier land.

"Your boots, Theon," gasped Sansa. Theon gave a shrug in response and took her arm.

A small crowd of his family and the common folk came to see their new Lord Greyjoy and his young lady wife. Theon smiled and was his charismatic self to the crowd. Sansa smiled and spoke to Lord Botley's lady wife. An older man named Dagmer Cleftjaw had come from the castle to greet Theon personally. Sansa wondered curiously how he received the ugly scar on his face.

"My lord," bowed Cleftjaw. "My lady." All ten of his fingers had rings of gold, iron, and silver. Some had garnets, and sapphires. One or two had a darker stone that Sansa did not recognize by glance.

"Uncle," smiled Theon. Sansa raised an eyebrow. "I haven't forgotten all you have taught me."

"Good. I could have been raiding instead of being the master at arms if my time has been wasted," nodded Cleftjaw with a toothy smile. A woman of say five and twenty had brought horses from the castle for them. Sansa was about to mount a horse, when Theon touched her arm.

"Ride with me, dearheart." Theon led his horse to her. He helped up her on the horse, before getting on himself. "They seem to like you." He wrapped one arm around her with the other holding the reins. Sansa glanced at the woman who was staring at them as they rode past. How can you tell? The woman flirted with Theon as she spoke to him. Sansa bit her lip and kept a mask of calm composure.

"You visited Ten Towers, my lord?" asked the impetuous shorthaired woman.

"Aye, to see my lady mother." The woman nodded solemnly but cracked a smile and continued her crass manner of speech. Sansa frowned at the woman. Where all the Ironborn women this unladylike and bold enough to flirt with her husband right in front of her? When they made it to the castle of Pyke. Sansa looked around at the three towers. The guards of the gatehouse called out greetings to Theon and Asha.

"Hello, little brother," grinned the woman. Sansa's eyes widened as she recognized the similar hair colour and eyes. She felt slightly mortified for being annoyed by Theon's sister though Sansa also wondered why would Asha flirt with Theon to begin with? Sansa would never flirt with her brothers. Not even her half brother Jon.

"What?" cried Theon in shock, his handsome face scrunched with disbelief. "Why didn't either of you two say anything?" Dagmer Cleftjaw and Aeron Greyjoy shrugged or didn't look at all sheepish.

"Not my fault you can't recognize your own sister after so many years," said Damphair.

"I remember Asha being ugly," protested Theon as he helped Sansa off the horse. Asha guffawed,

"I remember things that I'm sure you don't want your pretty lady wife to know." Theon scowled at his only sister, whilst he clasped hands with a curious Sansa. "Welcome, good-sister to Pyke." Sansa smiled graciously.

"Thank you, Lady Asha." Asha took Sansa's free hand in her larger, tan, and calloused hand, leading her to the- "This is the Great Keep."

Theon sat on the Seastone Chair near the end of all the festivities. It was at a late hour, yet the Ironborn lords were still going strong in their merrymaking. More like debauchery at this point. He rested his chin on his fist as he mulled over the words of Uncle Victarion.

"Balon died and suddenly Euron's ship was seen not long after."

"Purely coincidental, uncle," laughed off Theon unworriedly with a shrug.

"Nothing is coincidental or accidental, when it comes to Euron, nephew." Theon remembered the fate of Victarion's salt wife, this time he was filled with sick dread. Theon clenched his fists as Victarion's eyes flickered to Sansa who was dancing with a ten year old son of one of the Ironborn. "My own brother. He won't respect you or fear you. You may be Balon's son but you aren't Balon." Theon casted his uncle a dirty glare.

He won't hurt her.

"Enough talk about Euron," interrupted Asha. She raised her tankard. "A toast to Theon's return!" He smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes and lifted his cup, but the taste of ale was off.

He was bleary eyed from drinking his cups. Theon's gaze followed Sansa's movements. He's been reminded by how uncouth the Ironborn can be. Theon is ready to stab anyone who dares "mistaken" Sansa for a serving wench. The Ironborn don't really care that he has returned. It's no way similar to what Sansa received when they returned to Winterfell. He wonders if they were looking forward to a bloody battle between his sister and uncles for Theon's rightful throne instead. His sister welcomed him and Sansa in her own way. His uncles Victarion and Damphair behaved as if Theon had been away from Pyke for a day, not a little more than a decade. He wanted to shout at them that he was their lord, the lord. Remembrance of words said by Lord Stark kept him from drunkenly shouting aloud.

I'm Theon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Isles, the last son of Balon.

Husband of Princess Sansa Stark, the mother of our unborn child.

Feck you.

"My lord, is everything alright?" Sansa stood before him placing her hands on his shoulders. She had been dazzling and charming all day. She had a gift of making his- now their hardened subjects like her. Sansa's smile didn't faltered but her auburn brows knitted with concern.

"Aye, everything is perfectly fine, love." Thoughts of Euron and the death of his lord father were far away. His need to keep Sansa close and within sight hasn't lessened. Theon took Sansa's hand in his and kissed it. He had a desire to slip his hand under her rich dark blue velvet skirts. One night, we'll come here and make love on this chair.

"We should retire, my lord," suggested Sansa as she leant down for a kiss.

"You've read my mind, my lady," he said as he rose from the Seastone Chair. By memory, he took them to the Sea Tower. Sansa tensed as they walked across the bridges to get to the round tower. Theon walked past his childhood chamber, wondering if it still looked the same. His rumination is interrupted by Sansa stroking his hair as if he were a fluffy dog. Theon was about to laugh and mention it but he quickly remembered Lady was dead. He patted her rump gently instead and laughed.

"Is my hair very unkempt, love?" He certainly hoped it wasn't.

"No, I just like your hair shorn this way." A part of him wanted to ask what was wrong with his hair before.

"Do you?" He look down at her with a smile. Sansa nearly tripped up the step. "Watch your step, Sansa," cautioned Theon as he led her up the stairs to the top of the tower to where their chambers were. The chamber was well prepared for him and Sansa. The furnishings exceeded the rank of a lord to some. Theon liked nice things and was curating in his head, sumptuous furniture and bed covering. As he removed his cloak, he thought about clothing for himself. Theon glanced at Sansa who was being ushered by a maid to the antechamber. He gulped as he thought about what Sansa needed sartorically. Lots of Myrish lace small clothes. Fine gowns to accommodate their growing child. He removed his doublet and his black jerkin before sitting on his bed. Formerly, Father's. Theon frowned not wanting to think of his lord father and if Balon would be grudgingly proud of Theon now. He's dead. I won't earn or receive any fatherly pride from him.

Sansa entered their chamber in a nightgown and a robe. Her hair was still loose and not plaited as she normally did for bed. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Your first night back at Pyke. How shall we celebrate, Lord Greyjoy?" She withdrew from his arms and tugged at the laces of his britches.

"Our first night in our chamber in our castle," Theon entered their chamber in a nightgown and a robe. Her hair was still loose and not plaited as she normally did for bed. Theon smiled at her. Our babies will be beautiful with our looks. He was excited and thrilled at the news. They had fulfilled their duty of providing a heir. He however, knew nothing about being a father and that bothered him for some reason. If he couldn't garner the respect he wanted from his uncles. How would his own child love and respect him, their lord father? She wrapped her arms around him. Sansa would be a natural mother and a great lady like her late parents believed.

"... you aren't Balon." Neither I am like Lord Stark or any Stark. Everyone was quick to point that out.

"Your first night back at Pyke. How shall we celebrate, Lord Greyjoy?" He frowned as he jolted from his thoughts and at the loss of warmth against his chest as she withdrew from his arms. Her hands tugged at the laces of his britches.

"Our first night in our chamber in our castle," Theon amended as he kissed her stomach then pulled her in for a proper kiss. "What do you suggest, Lady Greyjoy?"

"Take me to sea again," breathed Sansa. Theon grinned wolfishly, though he honestly had no recollection of saying those words, when they were at Ten Towers. He had slurred his usual bit about her being a siren and how he was a kraken.

Together, we shall ride the sea.

A/N: the last update of my stories until I'm feeling better post-surgery and type out the new chapters planned.

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P.S. spoiler/teaser- Theon struggles to not revert to back to his old habits.