Part 38; To find Middle Ground.

Let us forgive each other;

Only then will we live in peace.

Sansa

Worry lines were prominent all across Sansa's opaque features. She barely slept a wink these past few weeks. Not with the constant fear for Theon's life hanging in the balance. Sometimes, all she could think about was what if he couldn't return to some semblance of who he was before? Could he survive knowing he would always be different?

Reek came out less than Theon. And she never saw the protective personality emerge even once. If any of his personalities were destroyed, she began to assume that that one had been.

Sansa helped guide Theon up and out of bed every single day. She could not stand to see him wilt in bed. She knew the looks on his face well and oftentimes knew that he was frustrated by his own lack of progress, but each and every day he was growing strong enough to walk further and further with her and Robb about the grounds.

Though she kissed Theon and Reek often, she had yet to bed either of them. Not for lack of wanting, but for the sheer reason that she was no longer used to pleasures of the flesh. It had been so many years without intimate touches that part of her had hardened to them. She felt undeserving of either of their love. The morning she chose to punish the protective personality was seared forever into her mind.

Clear-cut. And horrific.

She used Little Robb as a shield against her husband's affections. Every night he squeezed between them both in their marital bed in nudity and slept. Sansa had never seen Little Robb happier in all his days. After all, he wasn't the one that had walled off his heart over the years.

She had prepared herself to live a chaste life fending for the man she loved. Now, she had gone so long without it, it felt strange to return to it. She never even realized she could survive without touch of a sexual kind. Until she was forced to.

She saw the confusion in Reek's eyes. Theon seemed to accept her unwillingness to bed him or speak about it, but Reek was the hardest to avoid. He had questions. And he wanted her touches. She offered him touch. But if he tried to reciprocate, she would draw away and shut down. It wasn't fair. To either of them. But she didn't know how to talk about it. And she was so ashamed—she hated lying to them.

She didn't know how to tell them the truth either.

Worried that they would never forgive her if they knew; she kept it to herself.

Just another secret she had that would little by little eat her alive.

"Mum?" Little Robb had surfaced from underneath the swirl of furs. Naked his name-day he stood before her, firmly rubbing sleep from his eyes.

She had been settled with her back against the stone that carved out the window, a silken-robe wrapped tightly around her middle. Haunted eyes staring out at the midnight precipice of beauty. Lit by the ever-clear beam of the full moon, high up in the cloudless night sky.

"Yes, Sweet Boy?" Her mothering tone emerged without hesitation and Little Robb climbed astride her lap, his bodily warmth a comfort to her as his little legs spread to encircle her middle.

"Why do you seem so sad, Mum? Papa is getting better…shouldn't you be happy?"

Her little boy didn't miss a trick. He was so perceptive that sometimes it made her think about it notably. She often had to think fast and come up with a half-truth in order to cover her real problems. She surely couldn't tell Robb anymore than she could Theon about the real reason she was so fucked up on the inside.

"I am happy. I am just scared he will have another seizure. You see how hard he pushes himself for us, don't you?" Her hand rubbed up and down the length of his spine. Brushing little knobs and bumps along the way. He was so skinny. Only a slight pudge just in the middle of his stomach was noticeable on his frame for fat stores. He had never been one to eat.

"You do not ever bed each other…like man and wife…" Her breath was stolen in her throat.

"Who told you of bedding?" She had already had a stern conversation with the entire staff regarding topics that were off limits. Who on Earth spoke to him about such a crude subject?

"I hear Uncle Jon and Aunt Alysia in their chambers. I saw them once joined together…I know Papa cannot join with you…but you must do something…right? Something to feel good?"

Her cheeks were flushed so red she didn't know if they would ever return to their natural pale color. Little Robb was too smart. And far too perceptive. There were no other explanations she could provide than that. Uncomfortably, she shifted.

"You need not worry about such things, Robb. They are for grown-ups to worry on. Understand?" She was not usually so stern with him, but something had to be done to tamper his curiosity on this matter.

Anything at all.

She eyed the bed where Theon was still a lump of sleep and snores. She was thankful for the little mercies right now.

"I do worry though, Ma…You are not happy. And neither is Papa…I can see how sad he gets sometimes. Both of his personalities…"

Abashed that he appeared unwilling to drop the subject, her teeth sank into her lower lip.

"One day you will have a wife of your own, Gods be good, and you will know that these things are never so black and white. Okay? Why don't you feed a bit, hm? You are so thin, Robb." She wanted a way to change the subject. With uncertain eyes he appeared to recognize what she was doing, but she knew he liked to feed from her.

It was a simple distraction really. And without much coaxing he took the bait.

She fished out a breast from underneath her robe and he latched on. Drinking from her fondly as she stroked through his hair tendrils. Listened to the sound of his suckling and sighed. She remembered when she deemed her own Aunt insane for allowing her son to suckle from her even after he was no longer a toddler.

She understood now.

Not wanting to let go of this connection. Especially since she knew it would be explicitly impossible for her to have it ever again, once it was at an end. She would never carry another baby to term. Never hold a screaming bundle of joy whom relied on her for nourishment. There would only ever be Little Robb. She wanted to seize his youth for as long as she could. She wanted to remember what it felt like to nourish someone she grew inside of her own body. Without realizing it was even occurring a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks.

Collected at her robe collar. Subtly, her lips grazed over the top of his head. She planted a barely there kiss to his hair. Drank in the scent of him. Fire ash and honey-soap.

When his belly was full, he nuzzled against her and dropped his lips from her teat. "You still love, Papa…Don't you?" She gave off a tired sigh, well-aware of the fact that he would not be swayed from this subject.

"With all my heart, Robb." Sad-eyed she kissed the tip of his nose and he shivered in her arms.

"Then why don't you bed him?"

She gave out a frustrated sigh.

"It is complicated. I did something bad, and I am afraid Theon will never forgive me for it. I haven't told him about what I did, yet. I never told anyone." Her eyes clouded with worry and she tore them away from her trusting little boy.

"He loves you. Just like I love you, Mum. And he needs you Mum. You have been separated for so long, haven't you both been away long enough?" She marveled at Robb's maturity. Sometimes, she mistook him for an old soul. Sometimes, if she viewed him in the proper light—she mistook him for her eldest brother.

She remembered when she used to seek counsel with her brother, Robb. She would whisper sweet nothings into his ear and wonder if he would miss her with the same depth that she missed him when they finally had parted. She remembered the absence of him everywhere she looked in King's Landing. The thought of him huddled in a tent, mapping out the greatest route to snatch her back from the clutches of the Lannister's. The tears she cried when she knew him to be departed from this life for good.

She closed her eyes and swallowed deep in her throat. "When did you get so knowledgeable about things? Hm?" She wanted him to remain her little boy forever; but she knew he wouldn't. In a blink he would be old enough to wed a Lady, or a princess and she would lose him. She pushed her nose into his neck and a few more tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Don't cry, Mum." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she ignored the shredding of her own heart.

What would she do without him? She never wanted to find out, but one day she would. One day, he would be gone from her side.

"You remind me of my brother. You remind me of, Robb." Her voice trembled. "He would have said those words to me." She believed what she was saying with every ounce of her soul.

Robb was silent for a long time after that, and they stayed there. Just like that until time became undecipherable to them both.

Theon

Something changed in the way Sansa touched him. Her distance plagued him, and it only made him fight harder to be the man he was before. The man she pleaded to accompany her between her bedsheets, despite the knowledge that he was no longer a whole man. None of it mattered now. Something was different but he couldn't place his finger on what, exactly.

Her eagerness to lay with him the way she did before had diminished.

Years without touch—without love—had hardened Sansa into a mourning Mother. Theon had deciphered that much about her. But he still had the sense to recognize that she was plagued by more than just her grief.

At first, he thought she was afraid to hurt him. But he was able to go on walks around the castle grounds now. He had built up his arms enough to lift her off the ground with a bit of strain, and according to the Maester he was well on his way to pique health again.

Still, Sansa was different around him. Detached, even.

His mind troubled him off and on.

Sometimes he was unable to remember what he had gotten up to accomplish. Others he thought he glimpsed a memory, but just as quickly felt it tear from view. Some things he didn't remember. Others he did.

His most potent memories were of the sea and of his home in the Iron Islands. He remembered less about Winterfell than he used to. Of that he was nearly certain. Yara had promised to visit in the next month. Her letter had been scratched out in rushed scrawl and delivered by raven. Even that news caused a nervous tick in him. What would Yara have to say to him of Reek's betrayals? Would he be accepted back home if he wished to venture there?

Little Robb became easier to withstand with each day that passed. He was less ill at ease around him. He found him to be an engaging and pleasant soul. The fear he had when he learned that Sansa's son had been fathered by Ramsay was all but gone. His scent still unnerved him, but his personality won out.

Theon stretched and felt his limbs pop as he yawned. Little Robb was snuggled up against Sansa, their warm bodies sought one another's heat in the night. Theon might have felt jealousy, if he didn't feel such deep affection for their son. With a wistful glance, Theon slid from underneath the covers and dressed in haste. He didn't bother to wake, Sansa. He couldn't stand to see the absent stare in her eyes when she greeted him.

Instead, he decided to head down to the kitchens and seek out breakfast. The servants were mostly unnerved by him (more than they were before) and most avoided him. They believed he was cursed, which was just as well. It gave him an easier time of being left in peace.

He felt useless most of the time. He was no longer a soldier that fought in a war nor was he a guard that served under Sansa's bastard brother. He was just Theon. A man that spent time between this world and the next for the past five years.

Of course, rational folks feared him.

Though Sansa was not the superstitious type he wondered if she was just as unnerved with him as everyone else for the same reason. It was the only reason he could find that made sense to him.

He remembered how he had tried to convince her that they shouldn't rut like savages in hound pens and other filthy areas whilst she had disregarded and ignored him. Now, he was like the plague.

He wolfed down the bits of bread and cheese the kitchen wench had served him and ignored the glances he received. His teeth hurt whenever he chewed down, but he ignored the aches and twinges in his jaw. When he finished, he hurried from the kitchens and headed out into the courtyard.

Wind whipped through the branches of the trees and spring air engulfed him. Theon found comfort in the fresh air. It was the closest he would ever come here to the sea breeze of his homeland. The more distant Sansa was with him the more he ached to be back in the Iron Islands. Even though he knew he was no more welcome there he believed he would feel like less of a burden.

"Theon. You well, man?" Jon's voice startled him momentarily and he twitched.

"Yes, Jon. I feel well." And he did.

Physically he no longer felt like he was confined to a bed. Sometimes, his arms and legs felt heavy and weighted when he moved them but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

Alren—he learned Jon had two sons and a daughter while he was unconscious—glanced up at him. His slightly younger brother by a year, Brant stood close by. Clara was still just a toddler of two years old. Barely even mumbling words just yet and probably in the nursery. Jon was well on his way to having a widespread family like Ned did before the war claimed all of Sansa's other siblings.

"Where is Sansa, and Little Robb?" Jon always seemed to assume that Theon was helpless without his family a habit that should have bothered him—but it didn't.

"I left them to sleep. I wanted a bit of fresh air and time to myself." He admitted giving nothing away in his sea-green gaze.

Theon wasn't about to speak to Jon about his conflicted emotions regarding Sansa. Nor was it really Jon's business at all whether they laid together as man and wife were meant to.

"Shall I leave you to it then?" Jon's voice carried a hard edge to it whenever he addressed him. That much wasn't lost on Theon. He knew how much Jon hated that he was wed to Sansa. After all, what did a dick-less man have need of a wife for, anyway?

"Uncle Theon used to be one of the best archer's in Winterfell, Papa! Can he teach us how?" Alren interrupted their icy exchange, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air.

"Yea! Can he?!" Brant joined in with enthusiasm.

Theon's cheeks flushed in brightness as he realized for the first time that both boys held bows in their hands. A few memories broke the surface of his psyche. The taut string of a bow and the release of an arrow. How relaxed his flesh used to be when he imagined the bow in hand. Once, long ago, he remembered the salty tang in the air as he shot arrow after arrow at a target. His elder sister Yara taught him to wield a bow. His brothers had taunted and teased him as he missed. But she had encouraged him. Coaxed him.

The memory faded away and he found two expectant children eyeing him in wait of his response.

"I think Theon needs his rest, boys. Maybe another day…" Jon attempted to answer for him, and Theon saw their faces fall.

"No. I am well enough to show them." He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. He was tired of being overlooked and underappreciated. He wanted to appear worthy again. After so much useless time spent catatonic in stuffy chambers he deserved to have a little freedom to do as he pleased.

The boys whooped and cheered and Jon's face remained neutral as though he could care less one way or the other.

A few minutes later they were all positioned in front of the straw target. Arrows fed into their bows and Theon stood close behind. Guiding their arms up and shoulders back. Coaxing advice into their ears while Jon looked on, silently.

After the fifth miss (from both boys) Theon could see their frustration mounting.

"No one gets it on their first day. Not even I did." Theon remarked in gentle tones.

"How will I ever be a great warrior if I can't even hit a target?" Alren whined in his throat.

Theon chuckled and ruffled the youth's raven-hair. "Give me the bow, hm? Let me show you."

Reluctantly, Alren handed it over and Theon primed himself into position. He had forgotten how it felt to hold a bow. The power it took from his weakened muscles just to draw back the string properly. His missing fingers made the deed all the harder. He swallowed and breathed in steadying his tremor-laden muscles the best he could.

"it just takes a little bit of practice, and concentration." He instructed them. He trained his eye on the target, aimed—and let go. The arrow whizzed through the air and landed square in the middle of the target. Both boys watched in awe. Even Jon seemed impressed.

"I want to be like you, Uncle Theon!" Brant mused and Theon let out a slight chuckle.

"I am not as good as I was once, I doubt I could hit a moving target. Stationary targets are simple enough. I am not the man I once was." He handed the bow back to Alren and the boys returned to practicing themselves.

"I doubt that is true, Uncle Theon." Alren insisted.

"Yeah! I bet you could still hit a deer! Papa says you were a formidable foe with an arrow!" Brant piped in.

Theon was shocked that Jon had spoken to them about him at all, to be honest. He gave a small glance at Jon whom gave a slight shrug and a laugh. "He was. Your Uncle Theon used to be quite handy with a bow. Your Uncle Robb once wrote to me that he saved your Uncle Bran from Wildings with one." Theon's eyes flashed with the memory.

He could still remember the adrenaline pouring through him as he saw the danger Bran had been in and seen Robb so close to being killed right in front of him. He hadn't thought—just acted. Saved them both and Robb scolded him for it.

"You did, Uncle Theon?!" Alren asked and Brant's eyes grew wide.

"He saved my life with one, too." All eyes landed on Sansa as she strolled across the courtyard to join them. Little Robb at her heel. Theon's skin prickled with longing as his eyes landed on her bodice hugged by tight flimsy-fabric and he was quick to turn his eyes away.

"Really?!" Alren and Brant both brimmed with excitement.

"Mhm. Remember, Theon?" Her gaze pierced him. How could he forget?

"Ramsay nearly captured me when Jon was in the thick of battle. Theon used his bow to take him down if it wasn't for Theon, Ramsay might have killed me. But he never saw Theon coming. No one ever does."

He flushed with color and lowered his eyes.

"That's why you married him, Mum?" Little Robb mused.

"One of many." She admitted with a gentle smile.

His stomach turned over in need and he hated himself for falling to pieces whenever she so much as glanced at him. He felt his strength dwindle and his heart speed and stutter.

"Theon is teaching us to shoot a bow and arrow, Aunt Sansa!" Brant insisted.

"So, I see." She beamed in amusement and came to a stop alongside Jon.

"He is still as great a marksman as ever." Jon told her a tone of surprise in his voice.

"It is like riding a horse. You never quite forget how to do it once its learned." Sansa mused, "Isn't that right, Theon?"

"Of course, Sansa." He had been slow to shoot the arrow but it did not miss.

The boys returned to their shooting and Theon found a reason to excuse himself, citing exhaustion. Little Robb stayed with Alren and Brant to begin learning himself. Sansa however, followed him up to their chambers.

"You were gone when I awoke." Sansa clasped her hands together in a firm grip for a moment. Then she began to tug on each of her fingers and squeeze as though nervous.

He kept his eyes level. She always seemed ill at ease around him particularly. He searched through Reek's memories and found that she was less perturbed in his presence though still unnatural.

"I was hungry so I went down to the kitchens to eat. When I went for a walk the boys asked me to mentor them in archery, so I did." He inclined his head slightly forcing his head up to look at her.

"You did not need to follow me. I am quite content with napping alone." That sentiment couldn't be furthest from the truth but this awkwardness between them was somehow worse than being without her entirely.

This gave her pause and he wondered if she was considering it but she made no move to leave.

"I wanted to speak to you." She spoke the words so fast they sounded jumbled.

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Regarding?"

She swallowed nervously and tears welled in her eyes. "Your seizure…"

It was his turn to pause. He couldn't remember the event itself. Nor much from before it. Those weeks were blurred together and hazy. He hadn't regained the majority of those memories and he doubted if he ever would. He remembered pain. Splitting pain—but nothing more.

"What about it?"

She was trembling now. No longer close to tears, rather leaking them instead.

"Theon…I…I did something wrong. I caused your seizure…" She reached out to grip the wall for support and he watched her in confusion.

"How do you figure that? It isn't your fault my brain is all fucked up. Ramsay made me this way."

"No…No I…I did…I only meant to punish him…I didn't mean for him to lose his mind…To go into a seizure I was so angry…" Sniffling Sansa finally came to settle on the edge of the bed. As far from him as possible.

"Punish who? What are you talking about?" She was making less and less sense by the second.

"The protector…The other Theon…" She hiccupped.

"How did you punish him?" Theon wondered aloud.

Her eyes darted away from his unwilling to look him in the eye as she told him her truth. "I pinched his stub…made him wet a bit…taunted him for not being a man anymore. Told him I wanted him to suffer…I did in the moment, Theon…Only in the moment. But I don't want that anymore. I don't want him to suffer, or any of you to suffer anymore…"

Theon's back stiffened, eyes wide with disbelief. He didn't know how to feel about what she was telling him. How was it possible that she had caused a seizure? Caused his mind to go catatonic and shut down through all these years? With a few unkind words? With imposed trauma?

"Why did you want him to suffer, Sansa? Did he hurt you?" Theon's skin crawled at even the thought of one of his personalities causing her detriment.

"He was always so rough. And cocky. He left Reek to suffer in the worst way. Let men brutalize Reek so that he wouldn't have to endure it himself. He was a coward…he said he was there to protect you and Reek but he wasn't. He was only there to protect himself…and I was so angry because Reek suffered dearly and the protector only reemerged when the worst of the suffering was over. I couldn't hurt him physically without hurting you and Reek, so I verbally humiliated him instead. I didn't mean to break his mind…your mind…honest I didn't. He told me that he killed your bastard son in cold blood…one of the farm boys…and I saw only red. I know how much you want a son of your own and knowing that he stole that away from you…from Reek…I couldn't bear it. You must think I am wretched. If I had just forgiven him…if I had only done one thing differently…I became Ramsay…I became the person I hate most in this world!"

Theon listened on in a mixture of horror and sympathy. The burden that laid solely on her shoulders through all of these years had visibly taken its toll on her. He could see it in the way she carried herself. Hear it in the tone of her voice. Her skin was pale and thin. Her eyes hollowed and tired. She was no longer vibrant with life like Sansa had been five years hence. And it killed him inside.

"Sansa—"

"Little Robb told me to tell you the truth. I never wanted to. I wasn't going to. This isn't your burden to bear…it's mine. But I couldn't lay with you, knowing that I betrayed you so grievously. I was set to be a chaste wife for the rest of my days. I knew it was my punishment from the old Gods for what I did to you. And I was resolved to that fate…I thought I destroyed whatever was left of you that day…Now you are awake and you look at me with the same love you always did and I cannot bear it. I am not your sweet and loving wife anymore. I am a monster…I do not deserve the love you look upon me with. I never did, really."

He felt his heart squeeze and pull. "You are saying you do not want me anymore. If that is what you are saying, Sansa…I already figured as much." He was used to the push and pull between them. It was exhausting and he loved her. He loved her more than words. Despite what she did. She was his wife. He was bound to her.

"No, Theon…I am saying that I don't deserve to want you anymore." Her voice sounded small and miserable. Most of all—tired.

"Sansa…you only did what you did because you were grieving. You didn't do it on purpose. I don't blame you. For all we know my mind was fit to break into a seizure at that moment regardless of what you said or did. The protector is gone, I haven't felt him since I awoke and neither has Reek. He cannot hurt you ever again. I promise. And I will always look at you this way. With love and desire. You are my wife, Sweet Girl." He inched closer with every word until his breath was warm on her cheek and she shivered up her spine. "Whatever you have done I will forgive you for. You lived five years with a burden that would have killed a lesser being. You raised our son, alone. And took care of me all the while. Reek would forgive you, too. When he sees this memory, he will forgive you." Theon brushed her neck, down her chest, over the swell of her breasts that were full with milk, and gripped the fabric tight in his hold. Drew it up her thighs with careful precision and used his thumb to brush over her pearl through her smallclothes. She jolted.

"Theon—" Her thighs squeezed tight around his hand and she moaned.

"I married you because you are the fieriest woman that I have ever known. And because you didn't care that I was broken and cracked into a thousand little pieces you wanted to pick them all up and have them for your own. I couldn't say no to you. I don't remember why I even wanted to." He kissed just behind her ear and blew warm air on the space and she gave another moan.

"Theon…I can't…Theon…" Tears spilled down her cheeks and he licked the salty liquid up in tender respite. His thumb worked her over all the while and her smallclothes grew damp almost immediately with her juices.

"Shhh…Let me take care of you this time. You used to touch me when I was unconscious. I felt the pleasure as it burst and exploded in my veins. At the time I didn't realize what the pleasure was in the thick of so much pain, but I do now. How long has it been since you touched yourself? Since you took care of yourself?"

"I don't…I haven't…" Words were lost to her and he made quick work of the ties on her flimsy dress. Using his spare hand to strip her of the material.

"And what became of the woman that refused to wear smallclothes because they itched and scratched? Hm? I suppose it has been a while since you touched…hasn't it? No longer leaving yourself accessible like you did before." Her whines muffled into his neck as she turned her face to hide it away redness flushed on her cheeks.

His blood sang with need for her. His skin was on fire with every pulse in her veins and thrum of her heartbeat. He missed the touch of his wife's hands and longed for the thrill of her nudity upon his, without the bulge of their son nestled in-between them.

He tugged his hand free of her thighs hold and tugged off her smallclothes. She was fully bare to him now and with clumsy, shaking fingers he felt her stripping off his shirt and tearing down his breeches in her own haste to feel him.

He connected their lips in a summit of passionate need. His hand slid back down to circle around the swollen nub between her thighs and his thumb swirled just there. "Let me fix you, Sansa. I want to fix you, this time…" Her answer was unintelligible in the moans that fell from her petals. Her limbs wiggled about and her thighs opened up for him to seek out her apex in bodily response.

Retracting his fingers, he sucked them clean of juices and pressed the hard bulge of his stub to her gash in full. He muffled her cries of pleasure by closing his mouth over her own. And began to rut slow and sensual against her. The universe shifted around them as her nails found his back and dug in tight. His lips detached from her own only to find the white, thin lines of her scars. He kissed them in loving caresses. Pushed aside her winding locks of hair and further poured his heart into hers as her legs wound around his waist.

Neither of them was long for this pleasure. They spilled over the edge together in loud cries and purrs of contentment. Already, winded from his long teaching session down in the courtyard, Theon's muscles ached and tugged in reminder of his general weakness. He had still not built himself up to be so agile and it showed in his lack of stamina as he came down from this high.

He breathed in heavy gulps of air and trembled on top of his lover from a mixture of weakness and resounding pleasure that pumped through his nerves and veins.

Some time later when their breathing had returned to normal, she saw fit to release her hold on his waist with her trembling thighs. Her legs dropped down to splay on the bedclothes and he rolled onto his side, only to draw her side tight against his chest. She curled into him and nudged his chin with her nose teasingly.

"Do you doubt how far my love extends for you still, My Love?" Theon's voice was hoarse and cracked from talking so much today. It was clear his voice box was unused to so much exertion.

"Mmmm…No I do not doubt you…My Love." She returned the sentiment and together they faded into tired, marital bliss. Napping together as they used to—without boundaries.