Theon rode across the plain, with a swell of pride at the four ironborn riding at his side. He was in charge. Of ironborn.

Dagmer spat as they rode, struggling to keep his horse going the same direction. "Relying on greenlanders is foolishness. We can call in ships, take it the old way–"

Theon had to fight the urge to laugh. Who did he think would send ships? His father, who had torn Theon down every time he'd suggested it? Or his sister, up at the far North, with as many leagues between them as possible? No, Theon was on his own. And, as much as he loved his father and Robb and Sansa…

It felt heavenly.

He grinned at Dagmer, in too good a mood to care about his insult. "You're just sour about having a horse between your legs, 'stead of a woman."

Around them, the ironborn laughed as they rode.

"I am," Dagmer grinned back. "So you better put a woman there quick."

...

"My king, the scouts have picked up a rider," a Stark soldier said, stepping inside Margaery's tent. "He's requesting an audience."

Oberyn leaned back on pillows, his paramour at his side, looking far more at ease amongst Margaery's furnishings than her Northern betrothed, leaning stiffly against a table, or his sister, embroidering off to the side.

Robb straightened, pulling on his kingly air like a cloak. "Send him in."

The soldier knuckled his forehead and departed.

"Who could it be, my love?" Margaery asked Robb, shifting closer on their pillows. "Are we expecting news from anywhere?"

"As long as they're not bringing bad news from Riverrun, I'll be happy," Sansa said mulishly, taking a sip of her wine. As long as it isn't from the Vale, she'd wanted to say. But what Oberyn didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And perhaps she'd be in a better mood if her brother and his betrothed could take even a moment away from staring adoringly into each other's eyes. Oberyn and Ellaria weren't helping, either.

The soldier returned, escorting a shockingly familiar face. Sansa choked on her wine.

"Lord Varys!" Margaery said, rising to her feet to offer a hand. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Varys kissed the back of her hand, his eyes flicking to each member of the tent. "I hope so, my lady."

Robb inclined his head in greeting. "Sit and join us, friend, if you be one."

Varys smiled. "I do so hope to be." He settled back against the cushions with all the familiarity of Oberyn, who studied him silently.

"What brings you out all this way?" Margaery said with her usual smile.

"A common interest, I hope," Varys said, taking the goblet of wine from the servant. He took a measured sip. "The Iron Throne."

Robb scoffed, taking a drink of his own wine. "Now that the bastard who murdered my father isn't sitting on it, I'm not sure it is a common interest."

"Oh, an independent North, I had heard," Varys replied. "If only declaring it would make it so."

"Speak plainly, Spider," Oberyn said. "I've no liking for riddles."

Varys's smile didn't reach his eyes. He set his goblet down. "Very well. King Stannis has declared the Tyrells and Starks all to be traitors and has burned fires on the steps of the Red Keep dedicated to their demise. The Tyrells, for aiding Renly, the Starks, for stealing a seventh of his kingdom. What does the King in the North say to that?"

Robb's answering smile was grim. "If all King Stannis has to say is with little fires, the King in the North need say nothing at all."

"And if he puts soldiers behind those little fires?" Varys said.

"Then he might find a bite to my reply," Robb answered, with another drink. "As he hasn't, I've plenty actual enemies to worry about without jumping at shadows."

Already bored of the conversation, Oberyn stretched his head onto Ellaria's lap, content to let her run her fingers through his hair. "Was there anything useful you came to say, Lord Varys, before we shorten your neck for spying on our troops?"

"Plenty, I hope," Varys replied. "You see, I came to offer my services."

That made even Oberyn look sharply at Varys.

"Your offer is most gracious, Lord Varys–" Margaery said.

"But we'll need more than words," Robb cut in. "I'm sure you understand, Varys, but willingly letting a spymaster into our camp…"

"Of course," Varys replied, with a look out of the corner of his eye toward Sansa. She could only hope it hadn't been intentional. "If it's information you want, I can tell you Tywin Lannister's latest move: he's sent Petyr Baelish across the Narrow Sea to Essos. My little birds tell me he's expressed quite some interest in purchasing the services of the Golden Company."

Robb's smile thinned, his knuckles white around his goblet. "Indeed."

Varys continued. "Lord Edmure Tully will have his forces here in under a fortnight, almost as soon as the Tyrell army will arrive. I do wonder what could have delayed the Tyrells?"

Margaery gave a coy smile over her wine. "Indeed."

"And I hear you've acquired ironborn allies, as well?" Varys said, looking smug. "That's almost all the kingdoms represented in support of the 'King in the North.' I do so wonder why all these Southerners care so strongly."

But Sansa had started at the word 'ironborn,' not caring that Varys would note the reaction. "Ironborn? How do you know this? Your little birds?"

Varys's smile widened. "My eyes. I passed a group of them on my way inside. Before the sack was placed over my head, of course."

Sansa bolted from the tent, the rest of her allies forgotten. She tore through the camp, searching–

And suddenly, they were before her. He was. Theon stood flanked by ironborn, in the clothes of his people, face screwed up in frustration as he argued with a Stark soldier. Other than a bit more tan, he was unchanged. His eyes still as blue as the sea, that boyish impertinence still rolling off of him. No sight in the world could have made Sansa more happy.

"I've told you, no one is allowed in to see King Robb without–" the soldier said, for what sounded like the hundredth time.

"You can tell your 'King' to shove it, if he won't even come say it to my face," Theon said with fury to the little man. "I've nothing to say to anyone but Robb and–"

"Theon!" Sansa beamed, laughter falling out of her as she ran to him.

When Theon turned to her, it was only to give a subtle shake of his head.

Sansa stopped cold. What in seven hells…?

"There, you've got your bloody princess to vouch for me," Theon said to the Stark soldier, flinging a hand toward Sansa. "Is that good enough? Or do I need to summon Bran, all the way down from the bloody North?"

The Stark soldier cast a confused look at Sansa.

"He's Theon Greyjoy," Sansa replied. "Of course he's allowed into camp."

Knuckling his forehead, the soldier backed away.

"Quite the warm welcome," the ironborn next to Theon said, spitting derisively into the dirt.

Theon flinched.

With sudden clarity, Sansa understood. Theon had wanted to impress these men, who so despised Starks. Hopefully, he'd learn better of it, but until then…

Sansa swept her deepest curtsey. "Welcome back, my lord Greyjoy. King Robb is in his tent and I'd be delighted to show you and your men to him, and to refreshments. If you'd introduce me to your companions?"

Some of the tension left Theon's shoulders. "This is Dagmer, my first mate," he said, gesturing to the man who had spit. The man looked steadily on, without acknowledging Sansa. "The others are crew from my ship."

"Your ship?" In the singular. Sansa drummed up as much awe as she could muster for the little boat, instead of crushing disappointment. "A proper Greyjoy ship will be a welcome ally."

Theon grinned. "That it will."

One of his crew looked Sansa up and down. "This is the wench you stole from the capital? Pretty little slip. I bet she knows how to show proper gratitude. Knows how to–"

Theon backhanded him across the mouth. The man stumbled into Dagmer. All four ironborn looked at their lord in sudden disgust.

"This is Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell," Theon said, with barely contained fury. "I will hear no disrespect."

No one was more stunned than Sansa. "That is wise, my lord," she finally settled for. "If you wish to treat with my brother, he does not take insults to me lightly."

Theon looked no less angry, his men, no more pleased. "Lead us to him, then."

"This way." Sansa wove her way back through the camp, wishing she could speak plainly to Theon, even for a moment. Gods, but she had missed him.

Instead, she showed him into Robb's tent – thankfully, Theon left his men outside.

Robb had been discussing something intently with Varys. The moment he spotted Sansa and her guest, he shot to his feet. "Theon!" Robb grinned, pulling Theon in for a hug. "You haven't turned Greyjoy on us, have you?"

Sansa winced on Theon's behalf, feeling the sting of Robb's words before Theon replied.

"I am a Greyjoy," he said tensely. "Heir to the Iron Islands."

Robb's smile never wavered. "And you've come with word from your father? He'll support us?"

Theon shifted his weight between his feet. "Not exactly." He looked around the tent, staring uncertainly between the strangers.

"Theon, this is Prince Oberyn Martell, Ellaria Sand, and Lord Varys, the Spider," Sansa said.

Oberyn inclined his head in greeting. "Lord Greyjoy. A welcome surprise."

"And a welcome face," Margaery said with her warmest smile, standing to offer Theon her hand. He kissed the back of it with a boyish grin Sansa wanted to elbow off of him.

"What is 'not exactly' in terms of support, Lord Greyjoy?" Varys asked.

Theon looked to Robb, who nodded. "I have a ship," Theon replied. "Ready to attack Casterly Rock."

No one said anything for a long moment.

"I believe I must have misheard you," Varys finally spoke. "A single ship?"

Theon gave a nod. "That's right."

Ellaria let out a little laugh. Oberyn looked at her, sharing her amusement, but hid it better before he turned back to Theon. "And you believe you will attack the Rock – all on your own?"

"Of course not," Theon said with irritation. He looked to Robb again, unwilling to reveal more. Once again, Robb nodded. "We know a secret way inside. My men and I can sneak in and open the gates for all the rest of you."

"Oh, you just happen to know a secret way inside one of the greatest fortresses in Westeros," Varys said, with another glance toward Sansa. "I had no idea the Iron Islands kept such prescient spymasters."

Theon shifted on his feet, also glancing toward Sansa, as if he hadn't already given enough away. Varys smiled.

"Come, there's no need for this," Margaery said. "The Redwyne fleet will be here soon enough, and–"

"And we'll blow any chance at catching them unawares!" Theon said, finally upset. "We've got to strike now, before Tywin comes up and crushes us against the Rock from behind! Before his own fleet gets here to reinforce!"

"One ship," Oberyn said thoughtfully. "Trained warriors?"

"Of course," Theon said proudly. "We're ironborn."

Oberyn raised an eyebrow, not taking that for the same compliment Theon did. "You've led them before?"

Theon hesitated. "Well, no."

"You've fought with them before?"

"No."

Oberyn snorted, looking away. "And let me guess – you won't even know which way the gate is once you're inside."

"If he manages to get inside," Ellaria muttered into her wine.

"Of course it's a bloody risk!" Theon snapped. "I say my ironborn can do it. We'll get inside and open the gates for you sods. It's my plan. You lot aren't risking a single damn thing if my part doesn't work. Will you do it or are you too cowardly to even try?"

Everyone stared at Theon – all but Oberyn and Robb, who sat thinking.

"We've got 11,000 here now," Robb mused. "To the Lannister's probably 10,000. If we catch them unawares, it'll be the best odds I've faced yet."

"My daughters and I would have to be in the vanguard, waiting just out of sight," Oberyn said. "Any closer, and we spoil the trap. The moment the gates fall, we rush in."

Robb nodded distantly. "I'll be there with you."

"But… my lords," Margaery said with an awkward little laugh. "We have Tyrell troops on the way, and your uncle, bringing the might of the Tully! We could sail the rest of the fleet up from the Arbor, and–"

With a smile, Robb took her hand to kiss the back of it. "Which Lord Varys knew. Which means so does Tywin Lannister. He'll know to expect our attack and he's barely a day's march behind our reinforcements. Theon's right. This is the better plan."

Theon stood flabbergasted, staring at his friend. Sansa knew little enough of battle to be more than worried. She hoped Robb was right, that it was the better plan – and that Theon was right, and wasn't blindly throwing his neck into the path of a Lannister sword.

It took hours to hammer out the rest of the details. After, Robb stood, stretching out his hand to his friend. "Don't let me down."

Theon clasped it. "Never."

And without even a backwards glance at Sansa, Theon exited the tent.

Sansa felt like she'd been stabbed, staring at the flap of the tent as it drifted shut. He'd barely even spoken to her, not really, and here he was, going off to likely die, and–!

Varys stood next to her, at an angle where the others wouldn't overhear. "The Starks have managed quite the network of eyes and ears," Varys said casually. "Wouldn't you say?"

But Sansa wasn't in the mood for games. "Another time, Lord Varys." She shoved through the tent entrance and into the night, marching through the rows of tents straight for her own. She didn't notice as mud splattered the hem of her dress, didn't notice the stares of the men as their princess stormed past, didn't notice–

A hand snagged her elbow, yanking her behind a tent. She started to struggle – a familiar face stopped her.

Theon.

He crushed her to himself. Sansa hugged him back just as tightly, happy to let herself sink into it.

"Drowned God, but I've missed you," Theon said into the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair.

"And I you," Sansa replied, with her nose buried against his chest. Suddenly, she pulled away to smack him on the arm. Theon flinched in surprise. "This wasn't what I meant when I sent you that letter!" Sansa hissed. "I thought you'd bring a whole fleet, not just–"

He groaned. "You don't think I tried, Sansa? Now you're mad at me? For what – listening to you?"

"Listening to me!" Sansa fumed. "You said we weren't risking anything! I'm mad at you for, for… for throwing your life away!"

There were more words she'd meant to say, but they stuck in her throat. She stood staring at him, uselessly silent, fighting to keep the strangling emotions at bay.

His irritation melted into a fond smile. Resting a hand against her face, he swiped a grimy thumb across her cheek. "What's this, then?"

Hastily, Sansa brushed her arm across her face, wiping away the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. "You better not get yourself killed, Theon Greyjoy. I've plans for you, yet."

He grinned. "And I've plans for you, Sansa Stark."

Something about his plans didn't sound quite as practical. A blush flooded her cheeks. Suddenly, she was glad for the cloak of darkness.

"I came to give you this back," Theon said, slipping her Lannister necklace from his pocket. "I promised I'd keep it safe, didn't I?"

Sansa took it, immediately opening the locket to drink in the sight of her father. With a happy little sigh, she snapped it shut. "Thank you, Theon. And I promised that I'd make you something without a Lannister crest to replace it. I've got it in my tent around the corner, I'll be but a second–"

Before she could dart off, Theon snagged her hand. "I'm about to go through a sewer, Sansa. I'll not take anything you've made down there with me."

"But it's…"

He smiled. "Give it to me after I'm back."

Sansa said nothing.

"Three days, and I'll be back with you," Theon said, stepping closer. "You won't even notice I've been gone."

"For good?" Sansa hated how pathetic her voice sounded. "No more running off to Pyke?"

Theon laughed. "Robb's getting married, isn't he? Someone's got to stick around to tell him what a lovesick idiot he is."

"Oh, thank the gods," she breathed. "It's been unbearable around the two of them. Always laughing together, and smiling stupidly, and sharing food – she fed him yesterday, Theon! I had to sit at table with them while Margaery–"

All through Sansa's rant, Theon had stood grinning and drinking in the sight of her.

"What?" Sansa said, patting at her face. "Do I have something…?"

"No," he simply said. With a squeeze, he dropped her hand. "My men are waiting for me. I've got to get back and tell them the plan."

Sansa's throat squeezed shut. "Robb never attacked Casterly Rock, before," she barely managed. "I've no idea if you… if we…"

Theon smiled. "That's what war is, Sansa. It might be different for you, not knowing, but for me it's the same as it always was. Besides, I rescued you from King's Landing, didn't I? Not all changes are bad."

She stood staring at him, not sure what she could say. Most things were too trivial to bear considering. The rest were too weighty for stolen moments amidst the backsides of tents. "It's bad luck to return a lady's favor without another to replace it."

He groaned. "Come off it, Sansa. I'm not taking a bloody embroidered handkerchief just because you're worried some carved tree is going to make a Lannister gut me if I don't–"

Pulling his face towards her, she stretched on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Theon stood stunned even after she'd stepped away, rubbing his cheek where her lips had pressed.

"Fight well, Theon Greyjoy," Sansa said. Come back to me.

His boyish grin returned. "Always."

With that, he vanished into the night, whistling as he strode back to his men and his lone waiting ship.

Sansa didn't waste a minute. She began to pray.

A/N: This concludes the new updates! I hope you've enjoyed it, because I DO NOT have the next chapter ready. In case anyone's sense of humor is like mine, here's the note to myself that I embedded in the end of this chapter:

"DO NOT post past this point until I have the entire rest of the fic plotted out. ENTIRE. And don't you dare freaking renege on this, Future Self. Because I MAY have irretrievably Season 8-ed this fic. And the only way to know is to make sure I haven't."

I have about 80% of the rest of it plotted out, so I'm still confident in the story, just not the timeline for writing it. :) Love you guys! Thanks for reading this thing and giving such wonderful feedback throughout!