Sansa
Sansa lingered in the Godswood enjoying the peace of the sacred grove, the gentle breeze lingering through the scarlet leaves. Her cloak was pulled close round her as she stopped in front of the heart-tree. She didn't often pray to her father's gods, they seemed too ancient and remote compared to what she knew but she loved the tranquillity of the place.
"Praying, are you?" she raised her head at the familiar slightly mocking voice.
She tried to stop her heart beating faster as she turned to face Theon. She should have grown out of this a long time since, a silly crush on a handsome older man. It wasn't as if he was even suitable. She knew why he stayed at her home; why he'd been a part of the family for as long as she could remember.
He was her father's ward. A hostage against Lord Balon Greyjoy's good behaviour. A punishment for his rebellion and his reaving of the North and the Riverlands. His last remaining son. His only heir in the hands of his victorious enemy. They shouldn't even be friends. She shouldn't be remotely attracted to him and yet-
He was a handsome lad, she couldn't deny it; all sharp striking features, dark shaggy shoulder length hair and surprisingly changeable eyes as deep and stormy blue-grey as the seas of his homeland.
"Theon, what are you doing here?" Sansa asked as he approached.
She knew that he didn't worship their gods. The Ironborn had their own harsh deity - the Drowned God- but Theon didn't seem to be very devout. He never had been. She couldn't help wondering what he thought of all this.
He intrigued her because she never really knew what he was thinking. He'd learnt to hide his true feelings about them all.
Sometimes she wondered whether he even really liked them as a family at all.
He likes me though, I know he likes me, a little voice inside her said before she berated herself as a foolish girl.
"Going for a wander. I needed to stretch my legs a bit- mostly because your lady mother was glaring at me as if I was making the place untidy."
Lady Catelyn was civil to him because she had to be and it was one way of getting to her brother Jon. For some reason Lady Catelyn had conceived a hatred of the bastard which was unabated. It wasn't fair; but these things were not rational. Sansa had learnt not to question it.
"Well, you can keep me company for a bit." Sansa said, patting the ground besides her.
he won't want to spend time with me. I'm just a silly little girl. But we used to be such friends. He used to enjoy my company...
She remembered him deigning to hold her hand and sing songs to her, playing at knights and fair ladies. He'd asked for a bit of her embroidery as his favour and she'd willingly given it to him, spending days secretly trying to get the tentacles and curlicues of the golden kraken right.
He'd even tied her little embroidered ribbon to his longbow letting it flutter proudly in the breeze until her mother Lady Catelyn had spotted it. Sansa assumed that her mother had drawn him aside and had a stern word because he'd avoided her presence for a while joining in with teasing her mercilessly.
She'd challenged him; hurt beyond measure that he would turn on her so suddenly and tease her too.
"You don't mind my company?"
She smiled at him in welcome. "Of course I don't-"
"You're meant to be praying-" he reminded her with a twinkle of his eyes as he drew up alongside her.
She tilted her head, giving him a look that was part innocent and flirtateous. His eyes went straight to her mouth lingering there so intently she felt as if he had touched her -or kissed her. The unbidden forbidden thought made her blush a little.
"I've prayed. I just want some peace and quiet." she slid her arm through his in a gesture of long familiarity.
"There'll be precious little of that with the King and his entourages here. I'm surprised your Septa isn't following you, urging you to spend time with your betrothed."
"We're not betrothed yet. Not officially-" her voice was suddenly sharp, causing him to look at her in surprise.
"As good as-" he gave her a wary look as if asking: What was she trying to say?
"Can I ask you something?" she said surprising herself with her own boldness.
He leaned back on his heels, giving her a quizzical look. "What?"
"I don't have anyone else I can ask. Everyone is part of the family and they're involved-" She fretted, looking at him earnestly.
"But I'm a stranger?"
"You're a friend." She said softly. "You know that-"
Theon tried hard not to think of the kiss in the alcove they'd shared at year's end. She probably didn't even remember. He could never forget the feel of her soft full lips against his, the flare of wanting she'd sparked in him.
"What is it you wanted to ask?" he asked lightly.
She turned towards him, her lovely face rather serious. "What if I was having doubts?"
Theon blinked, taken by surprise by her admission. This was a road that he didn't want to go down- however tempting it was. All his hopes and dreams bubbling to the surface at her words. He should know better but she made him an utter fool.
"D-Doubts?" he hated his stammer, which he'd fought to suppress from his childhood leaked back. This must be more important to him than he'd thought.
"About the Prince!"
"You can't be having doubts." he stated sounding a lot more firm than he did inside.
"But what if I am, Theon?"
"You're going to be a queen someday, if you marry him. The entire family are congratulating themselves on how well you've done. You must be the envy of every high-born maiden in the kingdom from Dorne to the Wall-" As he told her this, he tried hard not to think how it hurt, to think of her being someone else's particularly that spoilt brat Joffrey.
"I'm only telling you this because I trust you, Theon. Please don't say a word to anyone else. You won't betray my trust, will you?"
They both knew that he wouldn't say a word to betray her trust in him. If she asked him to keep silent he would for her sake.
"You shouldn't, you know."
"What?" she smiled up at him, linking her arm in his.
"Trust me."
She looked up at him with big trusting blue eyes."You've never done me wrong."
She clung to him, her soft lips pressing urgently against his.
"I've wanted to do that since year's end-" she sighed softly.
He prised himself away from her tempting curves before he did something immensely stupid. Like press her against the bark of one of the trees and kiss her senseless. Like pin her against the bark and lift her skirts like a serving girl and have his way with her.
I could never do that, he reproved himself. She's too innocent and precious for me to despoil.
"Is this some sort of a game?" he rasped discomfited by the way she made him feel. The things she made him want.
She gave him an appalled look as if he'd struck her. "No!"
"Really?" Maybe his innate cynicism would save him from his own foolishness.
She flinched from the bitterness in her voice. "Why would you think I would play games with you?"
He didn't have to right to corrupt her, but he was too damn weak to do the right thing and walk away. This thing they had, these feelings...they were too raw, too sudden too dangerous.
"Do you not think that I adore you? That I feel as deeply as you?" her voice was low and impassioned. He could feel her fingers skim the side of his face in an affectionate caress.
"Sansa-" he was weakening, he knew it.
"I kissed you at year's end. Did that mean nothing to you, Theon?"
"You know that it did-"
His arms slid round her, holding her close. She looked up at him, head tilted invitingly for his kiss.
"Won't you?-"
He kissed her softly tentatively as if afraid that they would be caught any moment yet unable to resist her allure. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, yielding and melting languidly into his arms. Trust his luck that nosy Septa Mordane would turn up looking for her charge just as he was kissing her. Yet he just couldn't stop-
"Yes-" she sighed looking up at him so adoringly Theon felt like a king himself. "Ask my father. Ask him if you could court me openly... He might say yes-"
Theon sincerely doubted Lord Eddard would look favourably on him having feelings for his daughter but the way she gazed at him; as if he were the sun to her moon made him want to dare everything for her sake.
To be able to hold hands and kiss in the sunshine. To court her like an honest man; to fasten his cloak round her and give her children. It was an impossible dream yet one he couldn't quite relinquish.
"Please Theon. For me..." she breathed, her lips pressed against the line of his throat. "-ask him for me, before it's too late. If he agrees, if he gives his words before they ask officially there's nothing else that can be done, don't you see. We can be together for real and no one can part us!"
He could never resist her pleading, not when she looked at him like that. He found himself making promises, swearing to things he had no business to be wanting.
"I will. I'll ask him today."
"My Lord Stark, I wondered if I could have a moment of your time?"
Theon had conjured up the courage to broach the subject with her father. Just putting out feelers to find out how he would regard any suit he might press. In truth he didn't have much hope that Ned would accept his request but he had to try. He made Sansa a promise that he would speak to Lord Eddard.
"What is it, Theon? You look disturbed. Is something troubling you?" Ned said with a stern but kindly twinkle. "Come lad, walk with me to the godswood and we can converse there. It's been a while since we have talked properly."
-
Theon walked alongside Ned, getting more and more nervous and tense as he gathered courage to ask what he must.
Now. Tell him now. What have you to lose if you speak your piece? Lord Ned is a fair man, he might even agree. You won't know if you don't ask.
"I - well...I was wondering if it were..."
"Greyjoy, what is this? I've never seen you lost for words like this since you were a lad." Ned said with a touch of gentle humour.
"Your daughter- I wanted to court your daughter!" he blurted out cursing his gaucheness.
Bloody hell, Greyjoy! Made a pig's ear out of that one didn't ye?, Theon told himself ruefully.
Ned froze looking appalled with the younger man's revelation. He did not move or say a word just regarding him with those cold grey eyes.
"My daughter?" He said eventually in a voice as cold and frozen as the Wall itself. "Which one did you have your eye on, Theon?"
Theon sensed the chilly disapproval in Lord Eddard's voice. How angry is he? Is he about to strike me for my temerity?
"Sansa, my lord- he stammered. "I mean her no harm."
Ned closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking several deep breaths to get himself under control and calm as ever.
"You're a young man now, and you're bound to look at my girl. But that's all you'll ever do."
Theon's mouth fell open and he made a small noise of protest, but Ned carried on.
"Theon you must know that I could never agree to what you ask." Lord Ned was trying to be fair and kind but it rankled Theon that he would refuse him out of hand. He hadn't even given it the slightest consideration.
"Perhaps I ought to write to your father about some sort of a match. 'Tis time after all. I don't know if I should keep you here forever." He mused, evidently troubled by the turn the conversation had taken.
The thought of being sent away, of being parted from all he really knew once again- of never seeing Sansa again hurt him to the quick although he would have rather died than admit it.
"No please, Lord Eddard. Don't...don't send me away not yet."
"What else am I meant to do?" Ned sounded firm but sorrowful. "You mean to court my daughter, and you know this cannot be. Have you made approaches to her?"
Theon tried hard not to think of their sweet kisses in the Godswood, their little walks and the easy companionship they had in private. Sansa had dreamed of being able to hold hands in the sunlight but that would never happen now. He had been a fool to dream otherwise.
He shook his head. "None, my lord. I only had hoped-" his voice trailed away at the stern scowl on Lord Eddard's face.
"I promise I shall never talk of this again. I won't approach her, now that I know that you disapprove so strongly. I would do nothing against your will. Please, my lord-"
Ned
Ned looked at the lad with suspicion but Theon seemed sincere enough. All the same, the older man had a hint of foreboding as he walked away from him, worrying at the problem like a pip in his teeth.
What is it they say? Never trust the word of a Greyjoy.
Could Theon be trusted to keep his word and stay away from his daughter?
-
That night Ned sought Cat's counsel with a perturbed heart as they settled down for the night. She would not like what he had to tell her, but it would be worse all round if she found out Theon's aims from a different source. She and Septa Mordane had to be warned. Just in case...
"My Sweet, I was talking to Theon in the Godswood today." he said, clearing his throat.
She frowned turning to him as she brushed the dark red skeins of her long silky hair rippling down to her waist. Even after all these years he marvelled that she was his wife, that the Gods had seen fit to give her to him.
"Yes, Ned? I hope you told him I do not approve of his cavorting with the maids and going out drinking in Winter Town. He's a terrible influence on Robb – you know how he follows him around and idolises him. It's most inappropriate-" she said with a disapproving quirk to her mouth.
"Better that he slakes his lusts with the maids than with our girl." Ned said before he could stop himself.
The hair brush stopped, Cat turning to give him a searching look. "What? Ned, what are you talking about?" her voice was sharp and anxious.
Ned sighed. He was going to have to tell her all about his talk with the boy in the godswood and she didn't sound as if she was going to take it well.
"Theon and I were talking in the Godswood. He asked me if he could court... well, he asked if he could court Sansa."
"What?" The words exploded from her mouth. She nearly stood up in her agitation.
"He wanted to do what? I hope you told him what for. What in the God's name is the lad thinking of? As if he would ever-"
"I know, Cat. The thought of it is absurd. I don't know where he would have got such an idea?" Ned said hastily alarmed by just how hostile Catelyn was to the idea. Thank the Gods I told the lad no!, he thought with relief.
Ned tried to soothe his riled wife before she marched to Theon's chambers, hauled him out of bed despite it being the middle of the night and struck him for his daring.
Cat had the fiery temper to match her auburn hair and her disapproval of the lad had never abated even after the long years he'd spent with them.
"Whatever would what given him that idea? I thought I'd beaten that notion out of him a long time ago."
"They're both young and females seem to find him attractive. He's an attractive boy and he has that Ironborn swagger... Sansa is growing up, she's bound to have an eye for-"
"Not that boy!" Cat growled, most displeased with Theon's temerity.
Ned knew it was a lost cause and ceased to argue.
He could still recollect the horrified look on her face when he had returned from the subduing of Pyke with a sullen deeply unhappy Theon in tow.
What in the name of all the Seven have you done?" she breathed once she had greeted him, and withdrawn to see the new addition to their household.
Ned hastened to introduce her to the boy. He stared at her with bruised haunted eyes, gaze riveted to the floor. "This is Theon Greyjoy, Balon's youngest lad. He's coming to stay with us."
"How long for?"
Ned didn't know how long exactly the boy was going to be with them. It was all dependent on Balon Greyjoy continued good behaviour and submission to the royal will. He knew that the first sign of Balon rising up in rebellion, raiding once more would mean he would have to take the boy's life. He hoped Balon would refrain as he held his last son and heir – but Greyjoy, Lord Reaper himself had never been a reasonable man.
Cat blinked in shock. "He's going to live here? With us?" her voice rose at the end in agitation.
"Catelyn, darling-"
"I can't believe you would do this! To bring him up besides our children? Are you out of your mind, Ned? He'll murder us in our sleep!
"He's just a boy, Cat. Torn from everything he knows. His Grace ordered me to bring him here, bring him up as one of our own." he pleaded, hoping to soften her heart. He was asking a great deal of her, he knew that but what could he do?
"You can't! Ned!" she said staring at her husband appalled by what she was asking of her.
"My hands are tied, I have no choice, Cat don't you see?" Ned pleaded with his wife, willing her to understand. He knew he was asking so much of her, how she struggled with the inclusion of Jon into their household and now this traumatised boy torn from everything he knew, but he had his duty to perform.
"The lad was given to me as a ward for Balon's continued obedience. Have mercy on him, Cat my love."
Cat drew him aside, pulling on his sleeve. "He's Balon's son. He has their blood in him. Don't you know how the Ironborn hold grudges? Your forces killed his brothers. What will he do to our children? They will never be safe-"
"He's here as surety. As a bond for Balon's good behaviour. He's still young. He can be shaped into a different man, a better man. Cat, have faith in me-" Ned pleaded. "I need your help, I can't do this without you, love."
He could see her struggle with the idea. Having Theon in the house alongside her own family went against everything she held dear.
She had that bone-deep dislike of Ironmen that most Riverlanders had. Ned wasn't entirely sure that he could blame her for her obvious reluctance to accept him. Years and generation of raids had left their mark, and the Riverlander's hatred of his kind ran deep. "I have faith in you, you know I do. I don't have faith in him." She said reluctantly, yet Ned knew he had won her over.
But she would never like the boy, and she never forgot his blood or his birth.
"I told him it would never happen in a thousand years. He won't go against us Cat. The boy isn't stupid-" Even as Ned told her this out loud, he was troubled.
"He has no honour, the boy has nothing. How is he going to court our girl with nothing?" Cat scowled in her fury.
"I don't think he's even approached her yet. It's politics, Cat."
"What do you mean?"
"Marrying our daughter would give him a place in the world, his feet under the table with us for good." Ned said trying to reassure her and himself. "It's nothing but ambition, not desire. He backed down soon enough once I had expressed my disapproval."
"I sincerely hope you are right, Eddard Stark-" Cat said dubiously settling into bed.
Theon
"May I speak to you for a moment, Theon?"
He groaned to himself for a moment. There was was no mistaking that imperious voice. Lady Catelyn never spoke to him for any extended amount of time unless she was berating him for something. It was a close run thing whether she disliked him or the bastard more.
She had never trusted him - not one inch - ever since he had arrived at Winterfell. She hated the thought of him associating with her eldest son Robb and with Sansa, her darling treasure. If she had her way, she wouldn't have let him over the threshold.
"What is this I hear about you pursuing my daughter Sansa? Is this true-"
Theon thought to deny it but she cut over him, unwilling to hear his excuses and justifications.
"You are old enough to know better!"
He resented her scolding, her barely concealed distrust. She'd never got past his blood or his birth.
"Do you think that I don't know exactly what you get up to in town? You dally with the serving maids, and what about the Miller's wife?
"Its not true!" He protested. "It's nothing more than rumour!"
Sure there's been a few kisses and tumbles, some nights with the harlots of Winter Town, but his feelings for Sansa were a world away from that.
If I had Sansa, I wouldn't need those others. She would be everything I need. Soul-mate, wife and lover. Worthy of being the Lady of the Isles once I regain what is mine. My Lady of the Isles...
"I don't want you anywhere near my daughter-" she snapped. "I know your type, silver tongued devil, tell a girl anything they want to hear. You aim too high, Ironman!"
And wasn't it just like her to rub it in his face that he was in no way worthy of her daughter. Didn't she think he already knew that? He seethed with resentment.
"You've never liked me, from when I came here." He accused. "You don't even pretend to hide it, do you Lady Catelyn?"
She glared at him with baleful eyes. "Do you blame me?"
If he were honest, he didn't blame her. He knew who and what he was. Hadn't he had to live with the distrust and disapproval of these Greenlanders day after day? It rankled when he knew he was Iron-born by blood and worth ten of them as his father had always said.
"She is far too good for the likes of you, and you know it all too well."
"All I desired was to court her, nothing more. I won't do it, since Lord Ned and you disapprove so strongly."
Lady Catelyn was not mollified by his words. She scowled at him. "I don't care how many whores you tup in town, perhaps I can't stop you dallying with our serving maids, but Sansa is out of bounds! Stay away from her, or I swear I will make you rue the day you came here and interloped into my family!"
"In case you had forgotten I didn't come here through choice." he jabbed bitterly.
Her blue eyes, so like Sansa's but cold and distrusting glared at him. "Oh no Theon, I had by no means forgotten-"
Theon slunk away in defeat, reviewing his options now that Lady Catlyn and Lord Eddard had expressed their strong displeasure about the match between him and their daughter.
I knew it wouldn't work. He could never forget the horror on Lord Eddard's face when he had finally admitted that he wanted to court his Sansa. Let alone the righteous outrage of Lady Catelyn.
He hadn't even assured him that he wouldn't be stuck here in Winterfell for ever and ever, little more than a glorified servant.
When will my life truly begin?
He was of more than an age to get married and start a family. Robb would be finding a wife soon and leaving the family home. Sansa too had grown into a beautiful woman one who would have little trouble finding a man to fall in love with her and marry her.
And he was stuck here trapped in the same routine, training with the men at arms, spending his gold in Winter Town drowning his sorrows and finding a willing female to slake his lusts with.
He wanted more than this.
If I were free, back home on the Isles I would have a wife of my own, might even have a child on the way.
My life was stolen from me. Now I want it back.
-
The moment Theon laid eyes on the prince as the household lined up to greet their royal guests in their best, he developed a powerful dislike of him.
Surely he was good-looking enough with his long golden curls and green eyes. The typical knightly good looks that high-born girls like Sansa and her little handmaiden Jeyne Poole swooned over. In every conceivable way he was the better match for Lord Stark's daughter, even Theon had to admit it.
His clothes and tailoring made Theon seethe with envious bile. He hated the sneering superior way Joffrey looked round him, as if nothing at Winterfell was good enough for him to lay eyes on. He hated those fat wormy lips and the way his eyes lingered on Sansa with a lascivious intent that infuriated Theon.
I'd like to knock every tooth in his head down his throat. Smarmy little bastard, he thought with unaccustomed venom.
King Robert greeted the Starks with the easy familiarity of old friends, clapping Ned on the back like a long-lost brother and Lady Catelyn with a kiss on her cheek.
Theon waited for the moment when he would be passed by yet again. He wasn't a Stark and no one would ever let him forget it, not for a moment.
"Ah, the Greyjoy lad." Robert remarked, sizing him up. Theon stood still and rigid to attention waiting for the customary insult, the slurs on his house and his blood. "You still have him, Ned?"
"Aye, I can hardly send him back now, Robert, can I?" Ned said. "The lad's been brought up with my own children. He's wanted for nothing-"
Except for acceptance. Except for love, Theon thought with a flash of resentment. The only one who loves me here is Sansa.
Robert gave a scornful snort. "You're a braver man than I, that's for sure."
"I did my duty to the crown, nothing more." Ned said stiffly. "Lord Balon hasn't acted up since, has he?"
"Not surprised since you have his only son." Robert snorted, acting as if Theon wasn't right in front of him. "Balon might be a crank, but he knows if he messes up it's the end of his line for sure."
Theon held his tongue with a struggle. He felt a faint brush of a hand against his and noticed Sansa had moved subtly next to him to give him some silent comfort. He returned the pressure, sneaking a glance at her. The corner of her lips turned up just a little, a sweet comforting smile he appreciated.
Ned
The musicians Lord Eddard had hired to entertain the royal guests headed to the gallery and started to play, melodies from the Reach and Dorne, stirring lively Northern dances that soon filled the dance-floor and made the gathering that bit more lively.
Robert and Ned watched the younger members of the family dance and enjoy themselves.
Joffrey sat to the side with his mother nose in the air too proud to dance with the rest of them. Ned looked askance at the boy. Joffrey does himself no favours with his airs and graces.
It was very strange because Robert had always been down to earth even Lord Renly for all his court polish and fine clothes didn't give himself the airs that this boy did. Ned suspected it was his mother's influence. The Lannisters were known for their pride and high opinion of themselves and the boy had evidently inherited that trait.
How fair his Sansa looked dancing with her brothers and little Jeyne Poole. She danced a couple of court dances with Lord Renly who was a graceful mover as was to be expected.
The languorous strains of the Tarantelle caught Ned's attention pulling him from his worried reverie. It was a bit of a racy dance -rather more daring than usual- but they all seemed to enjoy it. He would seem like a killjoy if he were to gainsay it now. On the other hand he'd not expected Theon to take advantage of the situation to claim this dance with Sansa. His arm slid round her waist as if it belonged there. Their bodies pressed together gracefully moving through the measures. She gazed up at the young man, adoringly as if there were no one else in the room but them. It made Ned feel very uneasy, but there was nothing concrete that he could put his finger on the cause his foreboding. Nothing except to warn Cat and Septa Mordane to keep an eye on their daughter.
Is it because I know he wants to court her that I see it? Or am I right to be concerned? Ned decided not to intervene. Besides tonight is the night Robert will announce the betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa. She will be out of his reach soon enough. Let the lad have his dance with his daughter, just this once.
The king stood up on the dais, his bleary blue eyes befuddled with drink. What a magnificent wreck of a man! The time was when Robert Baratheon, the famed and ferocious warrior was a king to admire and look up to. He didn't look the part any more. Drink had thickened his waist and given him a belly as round as a tun of mead, bleared his eyes until they were a faint reflection of their old blue brilliance and coarsened his features. It was ever more cruel that his younger brother Renly, Lord of Storm's End had accompanied the royal party on their trip North and stood as a living youthful reminder of what he once was.
"I'm been considering a match between our families. Stark and Baratheon joined together as they always should have been. How about it, Ned, my old dear friend? My son and heir and your beautiful daughter. A second chance for both our houses."
There was a hubbub of excitement as the company realised what the king was proposing. A wedding match between Stark and Baratheon, a jump in fortunes for the North.
Joffrey and his mother Cersei sat at the top table, looking very smug and pleased with themselves. You would almost think that the proposed wedding was their idea.
The rest of the crowd were applauding the good fortune of the family and the rise of fortune for the Starks. Theon felt sick to the stomach at the thought. Just like that his happy mood was completely gone.
Joffrey having the girl he'd longed for secretly for years...
He couldn't look at them all their self-congratulatory faces, the hubbub of discussion and excitement as soon as the king had announced the betrothal. He had to get out of there, now, before he said something in public he would regret.
He had a mental vision of him standing up and objecting to the proposal, recklessly challenging the prince in single combat for her hand.
Gods, I'm as daft as she used to be as a child! This isn't some sweet fairy-tale from a ballad or told to children by a doting septa. Ned and Catelyn have already spoken against it. It's not going to happen. Love is not going to conquer all, much as I would like it too.
He downed his wine, seeking oblivion at the bottom of his goblet. Just his luck that this night, of all nights, he would find it maddeningly elusive.
A match between Stark and Baratheon, as it always should have been...
King Robert's declaration echoed in his mind as the feast went on. If he were honest with himself, Ned was conflicted by his friend's proposal.
On one hand, there was no denying that it was a grand match. A match that every other high-born family in the kingdom would be envious of. His eldest daughter and the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms!
If his Sansa married Joffrey then in time she would be Queen. They would be allied to the highest in the land. Robert was his foster brother and his best friend. Despite their differences he had always been close to the Storm Lord. He'd supported his rebellion, his ascent to the throne. He was his loyal subject.
He should have been the happiest noble father in the Seven Kingdoms. So why did he have this sense of foreboding when he looked at the young couple- and his ward steadily drinking in the corner with a bleak look on his face, unable to tear his eyes from his daughter.
What will become of this?
Sansa slipped away from the feast to go and find Theon, pleading over excitement and a headache to her mother and her septa. She'd caught the devastated look on his face when the king had announced the match to Joffrey, could feel his miserable gaze on her and could do nothing trapped as she was on the high dais between her parents and the royal party.
"Why are you being so hateful?" She started, her voice sharp with anxiety. She been fretting about him, worrying that he was about to do something foolhardy and stupid and all this time he was going to go and drown his sorrows in the stables.
He just glared at her taking a swig of the mead he'd lifted from the table. He looked as if he was well on the way to getting thoroughly drunk, and he gave not a damn what anyone might think. "Why d'ye even care, Lady Sansa?" his eyes glinted in challenge. He was spoiling for a fight. She knew that sour gleam in his eyes.
She flushed with anger getting right into his face."You have no right to judge me."
He shrugged, infuriating her even further.
"-And to make such a scene in the Grand Hall when mother and Septa Mordane still ask me sharp questions about you! Have you lost your wits, my lord?"
"You berate me for not being pleased about your rise to fortune. You'll excuse me if I don't dance for joy at your news my lady."
She blinked at the cutting caustic tone of voice. She knew he could be sharp-tongued and cruel when the dark humour took him but never with her. He was always kinder and gentle with me.
"There's no need for that." she reproved him.
He raised one dark mocking eyebrow at her. "Isn't there?"
She scowled at him, utterly exasperated by his immature behaviour. "I came out here because I thought you were upset. If you're going to be like that then I'll just go back inside."
He didn't even hide the resentment in his voice, taking another swig of the mead to sustain his low mood. "Go on then. Go! See if I damn well care."
You do care, she saw now so clearly. You care one hell of a lot.
She turned towards him, eyes blazing. "Why are you so angry with me? Why pretend you don't care when you so clearly do?"
He made a scornful noise but didn't answer her.
"Don't you dare deny it, you are angry at me. You can barely look at me."
"You should never have kissed me." he said, not hiding the bitter edge to his voice.
"Why?"
He turned away from her.
"Tell me why I shouldn't have kissed you. You certainly did not protest at the time, my lord?" she retorted.
His answer was torn from deep inside him. "Because now I want something I can never have."
"O Theon, don't-" she sighed sounding on the edge of tears. She closed her eyes surrendering to his embrace and the tears leaked out of her closed shut eyes. He wanted nothing better than to kiss them away, to taste the salt of tears and soothe her sorrow.
"Don't what? Don't be angry? Don't desire you with every last speck of my heart?" he said urgently.
It wasn't fair to take it out on her, none of this was her fault, but he felt so helpless, so frustrated by his loss he was lashing out. Would he ever stop wanting her? He'd sworn to Lord Ned that he would not pursue his daughter, but how was he meant to obey when she was the best of him? When he wanted her so damn much?
"I didn't know they were going to do this. I was as blind-sided as you."
"You seemed more than pleased with the proposal in public?" he said.
She shook her head in exasperation. "How would it have looked if I had recoiled publicly in horror? When my family have been so elevated?"
He hadn't seen it from her viewpoint. Gods, what a fool he'd been. So much for assuring Lord Eddard that he would court his daughter no more and would forget longing for her. That wasn't working out so well for him right now, was it?
"Everything's moving so fast and he's so ardent... You cannot blame me for being a little dazzled. But I do care what you think and I would never want you to be hurt. This is so damned hard-"
He caught her wrist, pressing his lips to the tender sensitive flesh. She shuddered with pleasure under the touch of his lips. "All you have to do is tell them you don't want him, that you want-"
That you want me, he thought wildly even though he was being a love-struck fool.
"- you told me that Father wouldn't even countenance you courting me. What future do we have?" her sweet voice was soft but weary.
He hated it that she spoke the truth, that their love was more hopeless than ever and yet he was in so deep that he could not escape it's coils.
"I have to do what's right for my House. It's my duty, don't you understand that? She pleaded with him, willing him to understand her predicament. "I have to do the right thing and marry Joffrey." If ever her duty seemed harsh and onerous, now was the moment. Inwardly she wanted to rail against the fate that parted them, the fate that tore her away from Theon but what choice did she have? She was bound to obey the King and her father.
"Everyone expects me to do it," she said trying to justify herself.
"So will ye wed him, then? D'ye wish me to dance and be merry at your wedding?"
"Oh Theon-" she sighed."I'm trying to be practical." She admitted. "It's harder than I thought coming to terms with the fact that we can't be together, and now my future is being mapped out by our fathers-"
When their lips came together once more it was not gentle. She clung to him, her need as urgent and desperate as his.
She looked up at him with those bewitching blue eyes trembling with the passion he'd unleashed in her.
"You might be able to wear a mask and put your feelings aside for the good of your family, but I can't. I'm sorry I want you too much, and I'm too selfish." It was rare that he was so emotionally honest, showing her his own longing and vulnerability.
"Do you really think it is that easy for me?" She said as he held her close.
"Gods, help us both Theon." she leaned against him as his arms were wrapped round her.
