TW: canonical assault and attempted rape.
I wish I could take credit for the brilliant idea of Theon heading to King's Landing instead of Pyke, but I was inspired by So Far from being Free over on AO3 who was in turn inspired by The (Conquered) Hero. So many brilliant AU fics, guys. I'm just honored you're here reading this one. ;)
Sansa stood at the shore with the Lannisters, watching the boat with little Myrcella on it sail into the distance. Faintly, she wondered if anyone here would ever see the girl again. Likely not. Myrcella was doomed to be yet another innocent Sansa had failed on her quest to build a better world this time around. She tried to content herself with reminders that Myrcella was not a Stark, was a bastard child born of incest to a madwoman who would see the world burn. All Sansa could feel was pity for the girl. Despite her family, Myrcella had a kind heart.
In the distance, a wolf howled. Sansa prayed that it was Lady. From her previous life, she remembered what had happened to Grey Wind when you left a wolf pinned up inside. She knew that when Robb had started winning battles, Joffrey would beat her for it, and she didn't think a direwolf would long survive that cruelty. So Sansa had set Lady into the woods, knowing the Lannisters would otherwise have long since killed her. If only Sansa could be sure of getting Lady back. She'd parted with her wolf once before. She never wanted to do it again.
As the Lannisters walked back to the Keep, with Joffrey making insufferable comments at every step, Sansa distracted herself with thoughts of her other problems. Why had Theon not replied to her letters? She'd sent several, warning of Balon Greyjoy's rebellion and attack on the northern towns.
But lead settled into Sansa's stomach. She knew exactly why Theon hadn't replied. Her letter warning of Jaime's capture had been mistimed. Instead, she should have warned Theon about himself. The Iron Fleet had been spotted on the move. Every day that passed, Sansa feared hearing word of Winterfell. It was only a matter of days before Theon sacked it.
The crowd was growing more restless. A pile of dung smacked into Joffrey's face.
Sansa could only sigh. Of course, today would be the riot, when she'd been assaulted and nearly– With a shudder, she shifted closer to the Hound. This was a day she couldn't risk going any differently from before. It had been bad enough as it was.
"Kill them!" Joffrey cried. "Kill them all!"
With that, the riot exploded. Hands grabbed at Sansa, pulling her every which way. Her dress tore. Arms wrapped around her, tugging her into a building. Sansa screamed. For all her efforts, she'd lost sight of the Hound.
"You're mine, little lady," a voice sneered from behind her.
Sansa screamed again. He covered her mouth. She bit his fingers. With a shove, he threw her to the floor.
No no no no no–
And suddenly, the man made a gurgling sound. He fell with a thud.
"Sansa!"
She recognized that voice. But she was hallucinating, she had to be. There was no way someone from home could be here. She was on her own, had always been on her own–
Rough hands turned her over and she flinched away.
"Sansa, look at me!"
Slowly, her eyes drifted to his face. Theon. Apparently, she couldn't trust her eyes, either. If she did, they'd tell her that Theon had just killed a man for her, was covered in blood, standing next to a body gushing from its neck–
Her doubts gave way. It was far too grim for a hallucination.
"Theon?" she whispered.
He grinned, offering his hand down to her. Sansa ignored it, crushing him into a hug.
"Alright," Theon said, laughing as he hugged her back. "I'm glad you're properly grateful. I've got a room in an inn nearby, we can hide you–"
"No, no." All her knowledge rushed back to her, plans forming as quickly as she could. The Hound would be here any moment. After that, the Lannisters would scour the entire city looking for her. Only the riots would hide them. "We have to run. Right now, as fast as we can."
Theon frowned. "Sansa–"
"Please, Theon!" she begged. "Trust me and run!"
He gave a nod, tugging her after him through the doorway. The moment they'd crossed the alley and into the street behind, Sansa looked back. The Hound stepped out of the building, searching. Sansa huddled into Theon's side, trying to avoid the Hound's gaze.
Theon paused to swing his cloak around her shoulders, pulling up the hood to hide her distinctive hair. Sansa could only smile gratefully as he tugged her onwards.
The whole city was in chaos. Theon and Sansa ducked into doorways, dodged flying rocks as his cloak and their fine clothes still marked them as more than peasants.
They needed to go north, obviously, but Sansa tugged Theon west, toward the Goldroad.
"Sansa," Theon said between breaths as they ran. "What are you—"
"The gate's the closest," she replied, dodging a sour-faced man with a barrel on his shoulder. "And there are woods nearby. The Kingsroad leaves us exposed and the Lannisters will catch us. They'll be expecting us on the Kingsroad."
"The Lannisters?" Theon laughed. "We've left them behind! You're free!"
"No one's free until they're dead," Sansa muttered. "Some, not even then." Never stopping, she tugged him west.
Slowly, Theon's merriment slid from his face. Seeing Sansa again had made him forget all her strange letters, her awful knowledge, and made him think only of the prissy girl who had screamed when he'd gotten mud on her dress. This was not that girl.
"The Goldroad," Theon said. He'd trusted her letters and not been proven wrong yet.
The moment the gate came into sight – and the Gold Cloaks guarding it – Sansa ducked off into an alley. Theon bit back the exasperated comment on his tongue. Bending over by the side of the road, Sansa scooped dirt into her hands, running it through her hair.
Theon watched, aghast, as she smeared it down her dress, as well.
"My name is Alyse Blackwood," she said calmly, rubbing the dirt in. "I'm your cousin who ran away from home, who still refuses to leave with you. You thought you'd give me a talking to in the woods, show me the right of things. Who might my cousin be?"
"Theon Rivers," he replied, still watching her with disbelief. "No one's looking for me."
Sansa smiled. "Fair enough."
She's fourteen. Fourteen, he kept repeating to himself, as Sansa looped her arm through his, heading merrily for the gate, the hood pulled back up to hide her hair. There's no way in the world she's gotten this clever.
The gate neared. Twenty feet, ten feet, five— A Gold Cloak slanted his pike across the road. Sansa looked up with a comical amount of alarm.
"Who goes there?" the Gold Cloak asked. "There's been riots in the city."
Theon shifted uneasily. Two guards stood on this side of the gate, two more on the other. His fingers twitched to rest on his sword, but he dared not risk it. Not yet. Taking on four Gold Cloaks in armor was more than he'd be able, especially with a lady to protect.
"I know!" Sansa blurted, with a sniffle as if on the verge of tears. "I was attacked! Mobbed! I just want to go for a walk in the woods, clear my head of this awful rabble."
The other of their pair of guards stepped forward, peering at her. "Say, she looks an awful lot like that red-haired Stark. Lower your hood, girl."
Theon laughed, trying to hide the hammering in his chest. The woods behind the gate loomed so tauntingly near. "You hear that, Alyse? What a compliment! I've heard she's the prettiest girl in all the North!"
"Aye. Pretty," the suspicious guard said. "And a traitor. Lower your hood, as I said."
Slowly, Sansa lowered her hood. Her hair still stood out flaming-red, even through the dirt.
The guard turned to his companion. "Send word to the Lord Commander. He'll be able to tell us if she's the one."
"How dare you delay us!" Theon said, blustering up to his whole height. "This is Lord Blackwood's daughter, and if he hears of it—"
"He'll congratulate me for doing my job," the guard replied, with a patronizing smile. "Won't be long before you'll be back on your way."
Theon reached for his sword. Sansa looked at him with fear in her eyes. There had to be another way, had to—
But retreating would be a sure sign that she was indeed Sansa Stark. The guards would never let them leave. Theon only had one option. His fingers tightened around his sword's hilt.
A grey shape leapt from the woods. The guard on the other side of the gate only had time to scream before the direwolf was on him, ripping out his throat. His scream died in a bloody gurgle.
Theon's sword was out before the scream ended, stabbing through a weak spot in the nearest guard's armor. The second guard turned. Theon smashed him in the face with the hilt. As the guard fell, he ran him through the neck. Theon turned his attention to the other side of the gate. The direwolf had bitten the last guard by the sword arm, shaking him like a child's rattle. The guard reached for his knife. Before he could act, Theon slit his throat.
He reached back for Sansa, but she was already running forward, throwing her arms around the wolf's neck. "Oh, Lady!" she cried, burying her face in the wolf's bloody fur. "You wonderful creature! I'll never leave you again, I promise!"
"I thought I helped," Theon muttered.
With a watery grin, she turned to him, including him in the furry hug. "I'll say you're a wonderful creature, too, if it'll make you feel better," Sansa said.
"It might," Theon replied. Uneasy about standing this close to a direwolf with blood dripping from her muzzle, eyeing him warily, he took a step back, out of Sansa's embrace. "I left a horse behind at the inn, to rescue you."
With a cheeky smile, Sansa dipped a curtsy. "I thank you for your generosity, kind Ser."
Unable to stop a smile of his own, Theon tugged her off the road and into the safety of the woods. The horse was a small price to pay and they both knew it. He hadn't had a plan to get her out, not really, and was struck by the realization that nothing but Sansa's insistence they run immediately would have had the remotest chance of working.
But how had she known?