I meant to have this done days ago, long before episode 4 aired, but it's like everything conspired against me to stop me from finishing. Anyway, better late than never.

Enjoy.

Theon was… thoroughly confused.

"Hello?" Theon called out, but no answer came.

It didn't help Theon's mind was still fuzzy. He was in the main courtyard of Winterfell, just in front of the castle's gate, but something about it was off. Winterfell didn't look how he remembered it, not to mention the complete lack of snow that should have been covering the ground.

If Theon didn't know better, he would think this was Winterfell before it was razed then rebuilt by the Boltons.

Theon couldn't remember what happened to lead him here. He was doing… something, something vitally important, but he could not remember what that was. Was he supposed to find something? Someone? Was this a dream?

"Take a breath and relax. It helps."

Theon whirled around to face the speaker, but when he did, Theon instantly backed up a step.

"You… you're not real." Theon's breathing quickened at the man before him. "You can't be real. You're dead! I… I know you are!"

"Am I? Hmm…" Robb Stark scratched the stubble adorning his chin, seeming to muse on the idea. "Well, you're not wrong. I suppose that makes a few things obvious."

"Robb… I…" Theon chocked back tears, thousands of things rattling around within his skull. A thousand greetings, a thousand different ways to beg for forgiveness Theon knew he didn't deserve. Theon couldn't even find his voice to say a single one.

Theon's swirling tempest of thoughts ground to a halt when he felt Robb's strong arms wrap around him in a tight embrace, one that Theon almost felt was crushing the life out of him.

"Gods, how I've missed you, Theon." Robb, grinning in a way Theon hadn't seen in years, pulled away a little, his hands remaining affixed to Theon's shoulders to hold the other man close.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Theon's memories slowly came back to him.

The Godswood, watching the ironborn die one by one before the Night King, fighting with every ounce of strength and willpower he could muster before finally falling before the unnatural horror himself.

Theon should feel more upset about being dead, but not only did he remember the fight, he also remembered Jon coming to Bran's rescue. Theon was not worried about Bran's safety anymore, Jon would do what Theon could not.

"Theon…" Robb's voice was soft, gentle, certainly better than Theon had any right to be hearing right now.

"I'm alright with it." Theon nodded, looking anywhere but at Robb. "I did a lot of bad things, made so many mistakes. Only right I die for them, finally."

"Theon…"

"At least I made my death useful in the end…"

"Theon!" Robb was shaking Theon's shoulders now. "You're not dead."

"I… what?"

"You. Are. Not. Dead." Robb said slowly, as if making sure Theon could understand and hear him. "Near to it, but not quite."

"But… how…"

"Because I wanted a word, idiot." It was an insult from Robb's lips, but his tone was spoken with such warmth and affection, the likes of which Theon hadn't heard in quite some time.

Theon was at an utter loss for words. Robb, however, was not.

"Theon." Robb's grip on Theon's shoulders tightened, but not uncomfortably so. Robb's grin, already so big, had morphed into a full-on smile, one that Theon hadn't seen since their days in Winterfell. Before that ill-fated visit from King Robert and the royal family. "From the bottom of my heart and beyond, thank you."

"How could you possibly thank me?" Theon nearly shouted, attempting to push Robb's hands off with his own, but the eldest Stark child's grip was stronger than even the Night King's had been. "Everything I did, everyone I killed, I betrayed you. Betrayed your family! Nearly killed Bran and Rickon!"

"Our." Robb corrected.

"Our?"

"Our family."

"Robb… I'm not…"

"Don't start with that." Robb shook Theon again. "Say what you will, do what you will, deny until the sun goes out and the world ends, but at the end of it all, you are a Stark. You don't have our blood, but that doesn't matter."

"Robb…"

"And I thank you." Robb pressed on regardless of Theon's complaints. "For being there when I could not. You protected Bran, our home, our entire family. And I also thank you for abandoning me during my campaign against the Lannisters."

"How is that…"

"Theon." Robb cut Theon off once more with a sharp look and word. "What do you think would have happened if you had been there during the wedding? If you had been sitting beside my Talisa and our mother?"

"I would have fought." Theon said automatically, without hesitation. "I'd have stood by your side and protected you. I would have…"

"Died." Robb said solemnly. "You indeed would have fought beside me, but for the last time. I'm grateful for your betrayal. Even if you hadn't, we were doomed. I made too many mistakes of my own as King in the North. But because of your betrayal, you were not there, you survived. It took some time, but you came back, came back to us. And I know you feel remorse for what you've done, as you should. But your penance has been paid in full. Theon…"

Robb brought a hand to the back of Theon's head to pull him in close so that their foreheads were touching. Then, Robb uttered the three words Theon never thought he'd hear, never thought he deserved to hear.

"I forgive you."

Theon released a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding the whole time. It was like a thousand-pound weight was lifted from Theon's shoulders, a weight he'd tried so hard to cling to as his own self-punishment.

"And I'm not the only one." Robb's smile returned as he turned Theon to face the nearby upper platform where three other people stood.

Theon almost couldn't believe his eyes. Ned stark himself stood in the center, with his wife Catelyn beside him, and young Rickon on his other side. All three wore matching smiles, bright and warm, Rickon even giving a small wave.

"Theon." Ned's voice carried down from the upper level, but Theon heard it like he was standing right next to the former Stark patriarch. "It is not our mistakes that make us who we are, but what we do about those mistakes."

With those final words, the other three Starks vanished into smoke, leaving Theon once more alone with Robb.

"As much as I wish we could talk more, I'm afraid it's time." Robb looked mournful, but happy at the same time.

"Time?" Theon asked. "Time for what?"

"As much as I've missed you…" Robb put a hand around Theon's shoulders, ushering him toward Winterfell's front gate. "It simply isn't your time yet."

"But… I…"

"No buts." Theon ruffled the other man's hair with a soft laugh. "You need to go back home to our family, Theon Stark."

Theon wasn't able to get out another word before Robb abruptly shoved him hard in the chest. When his back should have slammed against the gate, Theon instead felt nothing and proceeded to fall backward into a pit he hadn't seen was there.

As Theon tumbled into the darkness, he heard Robb's parting words.

"We're all waiting for you, Theon. But don't be in a rush to see us. The rest of the family still needs you."

Theon's eyes cracked open slightly, only to slam shut when met with stingingly bright light. He tried to raise his hand to shield himself from the offending rays but he found his arms unable to be lifted.

It took some time, but eventually Theon's blurry vision cleared enough to take in his new surroundings. He lay in a bed, his back to the headboard with some furry weight pinning his leg down. It might have been Jon's direwolf, Ghost, but it was impossible to tell.

It took considerable effort to do so, but Theon was able to at least wiggle the fingers of one hand, the wrappings around the digits weren't helping. His other hand was in some kind of brace, preventing any form of movement. The hand and a little of his head, that was all Theon's numb body allowed him to move.

"Awake at last, I see." Theon almost didn't hear the voice, it was so quiet.

"Bran?" Theon tilted his head to see Bran and his ever-present wheelchair sitting at his bedside. "Why are you…"

Bran brought a finger to his lips, an odd gesture considering his complete lack of facial expression to match it, before pointing down at Theon's bed. Following the direction, Theon looked down and finally saw what the weight on his leg was.

In his post sleep haze, Theon hadn't noticed it was Sansa, fast asleep, using his limb as a makeshift pillow. Only now, he'd regained enough vision to see some of her face. Either she did it before drifting off, or someone had done it after the fact, but her hair was pulled back so that it was out of her face, leaving her features visible.

Now that he could see it, Theon almost wished he hadn't. She was pale, unhealthily so, deep black bags under her eyes. Come to think of it, her sleeping position had to be horribly uncomfortable. How on earth had she managed to fall asleep in such a way?

"She waited for you to wake." Bran seemed to read Theon's mind. "Day after day, she barely ate, didn't sleep. She wished for you to see a friendly face when you woke. Her spirit held firm, but her body could not. Jon demanded we allow her the rest."

"Jon?" Theon lowered his voice, not wishing to awaken the sleeping woman. "Is he…"

"Jon is well, for the most part. The battle…" Bran looked away, toward the window that was hurting Theon's eyes moments ago. "Went poorly, but the dead were defeated. The Long Night has been averted."

"We won." Theon whispered the words, almost not believing them himself, as he relaxed back into the pillows, not that he went far to begin with, he still could barely feel his own body. Better that than the pain, he mused. "We won… wait… Arya…

"Safe as well." Bran answered. "Now if you will excuse me."

"What do you…" Theon stopped short when he saw Bran's eyes had turned white.

Knowing Bran was now well out of earshot, Theon abandoned trying to talk to him. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to organize is thoughts. There was still Cersi to deal with, but for now, they could rest and lick their wounds. All of the Stark children had survived the ordeal, too.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not, Robb." Theon whispered to the ceiling. "But we did it, we all made it."

"Theon?" Jon, much to Theon's displeasure, barged into the room louder than the bedridden man would have liked. One look at Sansa, though, was enough to make him quiet himself down. "How are you feeling?"

"Not feeling much." Theon said, Jon moving to stand beside him. Only now did Theon notice Jon's arm in a sling.

"Parting gift from the Night King." Jon explained before Theon could ask. "Got lucky he didn't break it. Would have been worse if I hadn't of had help."

"What would you ever do without me?" Arya spoke up from beside Jon, startling nearly every except Bran. Jon practically jumped a foot into the air. Theon would have, but he literally couldn't.

"Arya!" Jon hissed, but there was no bite in his words. If anything, he sounded almost playful. "Stop doing that."

"Not my fault you have bad hearing." Arya shrugged, not trying to hide her smirk.

"Jon, Arya, restrain Sansa." Bran suddenly spoke up.

"Huh?" Jon turned to the younger Stark in confusion.

"Sansa is waking. Restrain her quickly before she can move."

"Uh… alright." Jon used his free arm to gently take hold of Sansa's. She had begun to stir just before he did so. Arya, not questioning the request in the slightest, took Sansa's other.

Sansa's awakening was every bit as slow as Theon's had been. She eased herself up, blinking away the remnants of sleep while trying to figure out where she was. All the whole never noticing her arms were being held by her brother and sister.

When Sansa's eyes found Theon, specifically his own open orbs, hers snapped into perfect clarity.

"Theon!" Sansa lunged for Theon, no doubt in an attempt to embrace him, but was stopped short by Jon and Arya. The former whom was caught so off guard by her sudden movement that he nearly fell over on top of her with a yelp.

"What are you…" Sansa started to demand but was cut off by Bran.

"Theon's injuries were severe, Sansa." Bran's voice betrayed no emotion. "You do not wish to injure him further."

Sansa caught on quickly, almost looking ashamed of herself for forgetting. Once they knew she wasn't going to do something stupid, Arya and Jon released her.

"How severe?" Theon once more attempted to sit up further, if nothing else to show Sansa he felt somewhat fine. In the end, he couldn't even do that.

"Broken wrist, several broken ribs, more cracked, severe frostbite or something similar, multiple bruises and scrapes." Bran rattled off like one would expect a maester to. "The worst being the stab wound on your side. It missed your vital organs, but the magic of the Night King's weapon was strong. More than once they were sure you had passed, yet you clung to life."

Sansa scooted closer to Theon, her concern filled eyes running all over his form. Her fingertips ever so softly touching a spot on Theon's forehead that he couldn't see. No doubt a result of his poorly planned headbutt to the Night King. Those same fingers found Theon's good hand, their pads running over the bandages covering his hands. It wasn't skin to skin contact, but the intimate gesture to Theon might as well have been.

"You're alive." Sansa stated the obvious, but it was like she was having issues comprehending it herself. As gently as she possibly could, Sansa reached out to wrap her arms around Theon. "You're alive."

"Strange isn't it?" Jon was smiling, a sight Theon couldn't remember the last time he saw it.

"What is?" Arya asked, the younger female Stark took a seat at the foot of Theon's bed, barely missing sitting on his leg in the process.

"We're all here." Jon motioned to indicate everyone present. "All surviving Starks, right here, in one room. No immediate danger that can't wait a little bit. When was the last time we were all together?"

"Been a while." Arya agreed. "Too long."

All surviving Starks, that was what Jon said. Except, Theon wasn't a Stark. Even if Robb had claimed him to be such when they spoke briefly. Greyjoy, Stark, northerner, ironborn, what was Theon?

"You are a Stark, Theon." Bran once more read Theon's thoughts, at least Theon was starting to assume that was what he did with the strange Three-Eyed Raven persona. "Whether you believe it or not, you are."

"Of course, you are." Sansa put a hand on either side of Theon's face and brought her forehead to touch his, not unlike Robb had done. "That isn't in doubt."

"They're right. You're one of us, I don't care if anyone disagrees." Jon kneeled down to be a little closer to Theon. His behavior a far cry from how their brief reunion on Dragonstone had went. Jon had been ready to kill him on the spot back then, Theon saving Sansa the only reason he hadn't, but right now Jon was an inch from hugging the man himself.

"We Starks have to stick together." Arya patted Theon's knee through the heavy blanket to Theon's surprise. He actually felt the touch, if barely. Some of his feeling must be returning, albeit slowly. "All of us. Too many people wanting to put a knife in our backs."

Theon was stunned into silence. Even after everything he'd done, some of it to the people in this room, to their whole family, they were all not just willing to forgive, but accepting him into the family itself.

"Speaking on knives." Arya jumped off the bed and produced a dagger from seemingly nowhere. She moved around Jon and Sansa to take Theon's barely functional hand and put the handle of the dagger into his grip. When he couldn't properly grip it, she wrapped his fingers around it for him.

"Arya." Sansa sighed, not one of anger or worry, but more annoyance.

"What?" Arya shrugged, face an expression of confusion while she pointed a thumb over her shoulder at Bran. "Last time one of us was bedridden, somebody tried to kill him. We are not doing that again."

"About that…" Jon laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head.

Before anyone could say another word, Ghost came bounding into the room like he owned it. Which on second glance, proved correct. This was Ned's old quarters, which as the eldest Stark and current Warden in the North, made it Jon's room. Unless Sansa had commandeered it while Jon was away. Either way, it belonged to one of them.

Ghost, true to him namesake, made not a noise as he padded over to Theon's bed, pausing only long enough for Jon to pat his head for a moment. He gave Theon a cursory sniff before curling up onto the nearby carpet and going to sleep.

At least, it looked like he was sleeping.

"Really, Jon?" Sansa arched an eyebrow.

"I give the man a knife, and he gives him a direwolf. How am I the problem one here." Arya was grinning like a loon.

"I'll have to tell Brienne she won't need to post Podrick, here after all." Sansa mumbled, but everyone heard her anyway. She realized too late that they had. "Now, wait…"

"That's rich!" Arya fell back onto Theon's bed laughing, at the same time landing on his legs this time. "You can't complain about my protective measures, Sansa."

"Careful, Arya!" Sansa snapped when Theon winced.

"It's fine." Theon defended the younger Stark sister. "I'm getting feeling back, that's all."

"That's good to hea…"

"You're still giving a weapon to someone who should be resting!" Sansa spoke over Jon.

"Oh, great." Jon sighed, no doubt remembering the epic battles of the Stark sisters' childhoods.

"It's the perfect time for one!" Arya retaliated.

Theon and Jon watched the exchange of barbs with some amusement. It wasn't often that Sansa could drop her Lady of the North mask, and it was the same for whatever mask it was Arya wore these days. One could be forgiven for thinking, in this moment, that the events of the last several years hadn't happened, and they were having an ordinary day.

After the aforementioned last several years, the levity was most welcome.

"Okay, that's enough you two. You shouldn't be…" Jon, in a poorly planned move, tried to intervene on the argument.

"And you!' Sansa poked Jon in the chest.

"Yeah." Arya joined in, but from her borderline goofy smile, she was more in it to tease her favorite brother. "And you."

Poor Jon found himself on the business end of a Stark family debate helmed by Sansa. Theon almost pitied the man, but Jon walked into that inferno of his own free will.

Bran watched the whole thing, but Theon could have sworn he saw the telltale signs of a smirk. Not much of one, but one nonetheless. Maybe he wasn't as stoic and emotionless as he and everyone else thought.

Theon would have rushed to Jon's defense, like he'd have done for Robb, but Theon was feeling extremely tired, his eyelids growing heavy. It was taking considerable effort to remain awake, but he held on anyway.

This, this moment right here, Theon would not miss. He'd already missed far too much already.

For the first time in… so, so long, Theon's lips raised in a true smile.

The Long Night was gut-wrenching, I think all can agree on that. I fully expected Theon's fate right up until it happened, but that didn't make it any less tear-jerking. At least here, Theon gets to live.