Ygritte laughed at the question. “Of course, I ain’t gonna let ya get stolen.” What kind of protector did this girl think Ygritte was? 

 She could see the girl had been shaken by Orell. “He didn’t see nothin’. His body is with your brother. Probably tellin’ him I’m still with ya and checkin’ in. Smartest thing your brother ever did was help us out. Now he can have eyes where he needs ‘em and nobody thinks nothin’ about it.” Because they had long forgotten the magic the world held. Ygritte had not.

 "I thought you Starks were wargs. With the direwolves and all. Guess I was wrong about that. I will say you’ve got a special connection with 'em.“ She then remembered Sansa’s direwolf had been slaughter and Ygritte felt bad about bringing it. "Sorry. I was wanted a direwolf or a dragon. Never could have one though.”

"Good, thank you.” Sansa had known it was a foolish question, but it wasn’t as if she knew this woman well. She may have earned Robb’s trust and that was enough, but what if the person trying to steal her was faster and stronger than Ygritte? Then what?

Sansa slowly released her tight grip on the front of her clothing, letting it fall loose again so she might be dressed ready for sleep. “I hope not.” Even though the court had seen her stripped and beaten, it didn’t diminish the way it felt to know a stranger had been watching you undress. “Is there more than just the one? That’s probably a silly question isn’t it?”

Sansa gave a sad smile thinking of her dear Lady, cruelly sentenced to death because of Joffrey. She should have seen the real him then, she should have known how cruel he would be but she’d been too blind. Perhaps things would have been different. “It’s okay, maybe we are. You ought to ask Robb when you see him next.”

Theon was made livid by Sansa’s brazen japes.  Bedeviled by a woman, he lamented, my father would have me thrown from the Sea Tower.  “You ought not to talk to me like that,” he said darkly, trying to sound like one of his uncles.  When he heard himself, however, he knew that it came out feeble.  He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.  

The Greyjoy’s lips quirked into a small smile when he heard a note of irritation in Sansa’s voice.  “I am sorry my lady, you will need to suffice yourself with one of your Northern lordlings.  I will be married to some noble lady of the Isles.  A Goodbrother perhaps.”  In truth he could remember a scant few of the Ironborn maidens that were of an age of him, but House Goodbrother could always be relied upon to provide marriageable daughters.  There is a reason they chose their house name, my uncle Victarion would always say.  

“Very well,” he mumbled, not willing to look her in the eye.  “I shan’t bother you about your secrets any more.  I suppose this means I must forswear making japes at Jeyne as well?”  He hoped she wouldn’t make him give up all of his fun.  “If you tell her about it and I find out, I’ll make sure to tell Ser Helman all the nasty things you and your friend had to say about him, remember that.”

Sansa frowned at his telling her what to do, it was a bit rich from him. “You mean, how you were talking to me not five minutes ago?” It wasn’t fair that he could tease her all he liked, and probably tell everyone they knew. Still Sansa returned to her courtesies and decided to be kinder to him, he was as embarrassed as she was.

He smiled again and she wanted to yell at him to stop making fun of her, but she held her tongue. She was more annoyed with herself for letting it slip that his not wanting her had upset her, she was being foolish. Sansa nodded, “I’m sure you’ll find a good wife back on the Iron Isles.” Sansa agreed, trying to keep herself in check, trying not to give him any more ammunition against her. “When do you think that will be?”

Sansa looked furious at him for a moment before she reigned it in and shook her head. “Of course you can’t tell Jeyne! She’ll never forgive me if she finds out that you know all of this. This stays between you and me, sweet husband of mine.” It felt odd to say, far too bold for her, but if he was to threaten her she would do the same back, only sweeter. “I won’t tell unless you do. I’ll never forgive you if I see people laughing at me in the courtyard about this.”

A Northern Wedding;;

With the meeting over and Ned looking haunted, knowing he could not refuse his king especially after turning down the position to be his Hand, Stannis stood and tried to counsel himself in patience. His new bride to be looked frightened and sullen, given away to an aging man with only failures below his belt.

Davos had told him to be kind to Sansa, as she was likely quite frightened of the situation more than he - (and how he had scoffed at the idea of being frightened, but Davos’s words held no lie, he was frightened) - and so Stannis approached his bride to be and offered her his arm.

“Lady Stark, I would quite like to see the grounds,” Stannis says, his tone trying at being not so stern, “Would you accompany me?”

Sansa looked to her father once more as her husband to be approached, and he gave a curt nod as if he were reminding her to do as she was expected, as if she were Arya. Her sister would tease her about this, Sansa imagined, and she would be good and defend the man and the choice.

She looked up at the man and wished she were older, taller, the match wouldn’t instil fear if they were closer. It was both reassuring and upsetting to have seen in his face before the unhappiness with the match.

Sansa offered a kind smile, “Of course my Lord, I’d love to show you.” At the same time it felt like she would be saying goodbye to her home, she’d wanted to go before, begged her father to take her to Kings Landing. She didn’t feel the same excitement knowing she’d be going alone, with a strange new husband. Sansa slipped her arm into his and started to walk towards the exit, nervous to be left alone with a man she didn’t know how to make happy.

Theon was made livid by Sansa’s brazen japes.  Bedeviled by a woman, he lamented, my father would have me thrown from the Sea Tower.  “You ought not to talk to me like that,” he said darkly, trying to sound like one of his uncles.  When he heard himself, however, he knew that it came out feeble.  He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.  

The Greyjoy’s lips quirked into a small smile when he heard a note of irritation in Sansa’s voice.  “I am sorry my lady, you will need to suffice yourself with one of your Northern lordlings.  I will be married to some noble lady of the Isles.  A Goodbrother perhaps.”  In truth he could remember a scant few of the Ironborn maidens that were of an age of him, but House Goodbrother could always be relied upon to provide marriageable daughters.  There is a reason they chose their house name, my uncle Victarion would always say.

Sansa frowned at his telling her what to do, it was a bit rich from him. “You mean, how you were talking to me not five minutes ago?” It wasn’t fair that he could tease her all he liked, and probably tell everyone they knew. Still Sansa returned to her courtesies and decided to be kinder to him, he was as embarrassed as she was.

He smiled again and she wanted to yell at him to stop making fun of her, but she held her tongue. She was more annoyed with herself for letting it slip that his not wanting her had upset her, she was being foolish. Sansa nodded, “I’m sure you’ll find a good wife back on the Iron Isles.” Sansa agreed, trying to keep herself in check, trying not to give him any more ammunition against her. “When do you think that will be?”

“Some of the men are awful and kidnap from Bear Island. I hate ‘em when they do that. The poor women…I spend most of the time tryin’ to get used to everythin’. Some of ‘em starve ‘emselves.” Ygritte shook the memory away. “It’ll be more a game when I get stolen. Ain’t nobody catchin’ me that I don’t want.” She would gladly be caught by Robb Stark but she was not going to mention that to Sansa. 

“I hope I ain’t been tying ‘em too tight. I didn’t have much time learn.” Time was something they had very little of. She was awaiting Tormund’s laugh to echo but it had had yet to happen. “Aye, in a bird. An Eagle. His name’s Orell. He’s a skinchanger though your lot seems to think they’re all wargs. Makes no difference to me what they’re called.” As if on cue the eagle landed in the window, cocking its head at Ygritte. “The Lady Princess is changin’! Go do your job!” She shooed it out of the window before turning back to Sansa. “Damn bird always has to know what’s goin’ on.” 

Sansa's mouth fell slightly agape but she closed it quickly, it was unladylike after all. She had hoped it was a game, a little chase of courting rather than an actual kidnap of a person and a forced marriage. "That's awful! Why is that your system?" Sansa asked, then shook herself, free hair falling forward. "Sorry, I shouldn't question your customs... You won't let me be stolen though, right?"

She shook her head, "it's been fine, some tie them so tight I feel faint all day and cannot eat." Sansa explained, hand resting on her stomach, certain the other redhead wouldn't know the feeling of a too tight corset. "How much of a difference is there, in practical terms?" She hadn't thought much of the bird landing until Ygritte yelled out, and Sansa clutched her clothes to herself hoping the skinchanger hadn't seen too much of her. "He has no manners..." She mumbled, mostly to herself as she tried to reassure herself it was okay, not the end of the world despite her embarrassment.

I wanna breathe in your warmth

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sansa Stark & Ramsay Bolton Summary: Ramsay just wants to please his soon to be wife.

She heard his footsteps approach her chamber. The door swung open and Ramsay Bolton appeared in her doorway.

Sansa put down her book, standing up to greet him. “My Lord.”

“My Lady.”

“Have you been out on a hunt?” she asked, genuinely curious. His cheeks were flushed from the cold outside and he was wearing his cloak.

But then again, so was she.

“Yes,” he said, approaching her while taking of his gloves. “Are you cold, Sansa?”

Her name on his tongue was a foreign feeling, like something that didn’t quite fit yet.

Keep reading

Ygritte laughed when Sansa asked if she could protect her. “I’m fast and deadly. Val’ll find ‘er. She stolen her husband. I’m sure she can steal your sister back from whoever has ‘er.” She went to work on the laces. She didn’t understand kneeler clothing at all. She didn’t think she ever would. 

“I ain’t got nothin’ t’ hide. I’m fast. I’m deadly with my bow. See, we steal to make sure we can have strong children. If a man ain’t fast enough to steal me, I ain’t havin’ his babes. Sometimes, the woman steals like Val did.” She finally got all the laces undone. “Gods, I dunno how to you wear that thing.” She shook her head. “I am better than your brother. It was close. Much closer than I thought it would be for a king.” She thought of kings as lazy but Robb had proved her wrong. “Then you’re gonna be surprised when we go home. We got a warg with us. He’s ‘ere with right now. Well not ‘ere. He’s in the sky.” 

Sansa chuckled, though once again felt left wary of wildlings in general. She forced herself to remember that Robb had sent this woman for her, and the so called Val after Arya. He must have trusted them, and so she ought to as well.

Sansa’s brows furrowed in thought and she glanced around. “When you say steal do you mean you actually kidnap the person and force them to marry or is it more of a chase and game?” She wasn’t sure she liked that system, although her own system hadn’t worked out particularly well for her. “You get used to them, and hope that your handmaiden doesn’t do it all too tight so you can’t breathe. My dresses when I was back home, before I started to look like a woman, they were more comfortable.” She explained with a smile, missing her northern outfits and colours. They’d been simple and she’d been quick to rid herself of them. “Kings can be good warriors, they used to be anyway.” She didn’t say it, but the fact that Joffrey was a coward hung in the air. “In a bird?”

All the humor died from his expression after his inadvertent admission.  “No, I-,” Theon stammered, trying to think quickly.  “It- it is not as you think, don’t look at me like that.”

How did I let this happen, he thought angrily.  The fun he had been having at Sansa’s expense had quickly turned against him.  For a quick moment, Theon wondered to himself if it were so bad that she knew.  Maybe Lord Stark would consider it more closely if his beloved daughter appeared pleased by the prospect.  No, he knew, my father would never consent to marrying me to a Stark.  He would resent me openly, and I would be the laughing stock of Winterfell if they knew of it.  

“I am Ironborn,” he told her, “a Greyjoy.  It would not be seemly for me to take a greenlander like you to wife.”  He straightened himself and tried to look serious, but he knew he must appear juvenile in his attempts to conceal.  “It would be best,” Theon added, more sheepish than imperative, “if you told no one about what you thought you heard.”  He winced.  “I suppose I shan’t speak of your little notes in exchange.”

Sansa began to laugh, less ashamed of him knowing of her little crush now knowing he wanted something similar. She doubted he had eyes for her, but marriage was on a whole other level! In a moment of boldness, Sansa poked at his stomach while she teased. “Look at you like what? Like my future husband?”

Sansa couldn’t help but smile, he couldn’t tease her for the notes anymore. Her eyes went to the floor for a moment, glad he’d dropped them and unaware he’d kept the important one with his own name on. “So who would you wed?” She asked, almost offended at the idea she would not be enough, despite his family’s customs.

The proposition allowed some peace in her, but she frowned. “It’s what you said.” She reminded him, she wasn’t telling tales. “But I agree. Neither of us shall mention this to anyone. And you can’t tease me when you’re training or anything either!” He was one to do that, and it wouldn’t break the agreement technically. Sansa thanked the gods that Theon had slipped up as well, giving her something to work with.

“Don’t worry. They’ll probably give ya a personal guard. Me or Val. Val’s better at being a lady than me but she’s trying to find your sister since she isn’t ‘ere.” She hoped Val was okay but if anyone could fit in, it would be Val. “There’s some nice men. We ain’t all savages. They just ain’t for me. They can’t steal me so I won’t marry ‘em.” 

Ygritte shook her head at the idea of being a lady. “No, I’ve had a few lovers. None of ‘em were ever anything more than company and keepin’ my bed warm.” She waved for Sansa to stand up so she could undo the corset on the other girl. “He’s kind and loyal. I ain’t ever had that. I’m a better archer than ‘im.” She thought she should stop talking about Robb as he was her king now. “You ever met a warg? There’s one that came over with us.” 

"You can protect me from them all?" Sansa asked, though she didn't doubt her ferocity (even from only knowing her properly for the day) she was small and thin and she imagined the men she described as large and imposing. "I hope she finds her. I used to fight with her all the time and now I just want her back. I'd apologise a thousand times just to have her back." She said sadly.

Sansa stood as instructed and turned her head sideways to catch a glimpse of Ygritte. "Why can't they steal you? You're very open about all of this." Sansa commented as her dress was loosened and instantly felt more comfortable. "Are you?" She laughed, imagining the two having competitions. "My sister would like you a lot." She commented, and then shook her head. "No, I thought they were just tales."

Sansa & Ramsay AU

*cough*the storyline like it should’ve been*cough* Just thought I’d share this with you all :) Hope some of you will join me on the sinners-train!

Letters of Ice and Iron: Sansa and Theon

Theon looked out on the port of Meereen, where a raven was flying westward.  Below its wings of night, a fleet rivaling that of the Iron Kings at their apex bobbed serenely on the calm waters.  He thought about how forgiving the Stark girl had been in her words to him.  A weaker shade of the Greyjoy would have not believed that he deserved it, but he knew now that it was more important that he worked to earn his place in the world.

Dearest Sansa,

     You are too kind to me.  It is true that I never wanted to hurt your brothers, but it was the wildling woman and Hodor who saw them safely out of Winterfell.  I wonder where poor Bran might be, but surely anywhere is better than under the care of Ramsay.

     My sister and I met with Daenerys before I received your letter.  She did not truly burn down cities, but from the condition of the port I would say she had considered it.  She had been under siege by the other cities of Slaver’s Bay, and from within her city as well if talk is true.  The queen is said to have set ships aflame with dragonfire to quell the rest of the Yunkish fleet, and she sent a cavalry of 10,000 Dothraki screamers to her own gates to kill the masked men who had been plaguing the citizens within.  A brutal response, but not so merciless as one might have seen from Maegor the Cruel or the Mad King. 

     She proved to be quite diplomatic with us as well, promising her help as well as our independence in exchange for use of our fleet in taking her armies to Westeros.  She also made Yara forswear reaving for all Ironborn when she takes the Salt Throne.  We may benefit from such a change, but so many of our own people no nothing outside of the Old Way.  It is hard to say if she can hold the Isles on those terms.  The Targaryen made no comment on her plans for the North, but she is intent on seeing the end of House Lannister.  Advising her by her side, of all people, was Tyrion Lannister himself.  I will be certain to speak to her on your behalf before we arrive.

     I never thought the white walkers were anything more than tales Old Nan used to scare us, is it really true?  I know he will have traps for your army, and your brother must keep a close eye about his camp.  You and I both know what Ramsay did to the army of Stannis.  

     I do hope that you win support from the Vale, I worry for your safety otherwise.  Even still, I know not how you can trust the man who brought you to the Boltons.  I never caught more than a glimpse of Littlefinger, but I still remember all of the unkind words your father had for him.  Be wary about the man, and do not let your victory become his.  

     You honor me with your words, my lady.  I knew what he would do to you if he captured you.  Now that his father is dead, he can only be more sinister.  Jon can never understand what happened, nor what will happen should Ramsay defeat him.  If it is any consolation, I know that Queen Daenerys will never stand for such a beast as he to live should he still be in Winterfell upon our arrival.

     It is important that you continue to believe that there will be a chance to find comfort, especially in your home.  You taught me that more than anyone else.  Daenerys told me and my sister that she intends to leave the world better than she found it, and I think that you do too.  

     I worry for you as you ready to face the bastard.  He might have some fell scheme for such a meeting.  Another part of me is glad that he will see you.  I know that he did not break you, and it will give him pause to see that for himself.  Make certain that he does not get a chance to try anew.  The Tyrells and Martells arrived in the port near the same time as your letter, on the behest of Varys the Spider.  It seems Cersei Lannister has made enemies of all Seven Kingdoms, and she shall see the fruits of her injustices soon.  We leave on the morrow, and I will fight with the rest of the Ironborn in this great fleet.  I hope that I might see you again some day: you, as Lady of Winterfell and me as advisor to the Iron Queen of the Isles.  

     Wishing for your victory,

          Theon of House Greyjoy

He looked out at the undulating banners: the krakens, roses and suns flapping noisily among great red dragons.  Half of the Great Houses of Westeros were joined here, with freedmen, Unsullied, sellswords, and Dothraki as well.  He wondered if there had ever been an army so immense, so diverse.  Would that we could lend Sansa aid against the bastard, he lamented, looking down at her correspondence in his hands.  Amidst the concern for her safety, he had spared no more than fleeting curiosity for the symbol sketched quickly under the postscript: an eye in red ink.  Was it some symbol that meant the old gods watched over them with their eyes of red sap?  It is the Drowned God that will watch over this fleet, he knew, and I pray he looks kindly upon us.

He admired the skull on his writing desk as he gazed upon the letter that had just flown in.  You don’t look as wise with empty sockets as eyes, Reader.  He had been leaning back in the chair while he was reading, but he stood up abruptly when he reached the end.  Euron Greyjoy laughed aloud.  The fool children thought that it would be safe to speak so openly of their hopes and dreams, their strategies and assets.  His good-brother thought that no one would notice as ravens came and went from his Ten Towers.  He had drowned Rodrik for it, and soon, his nephew and the Stark bitch would rue their own folly.  He wondered if little Theon would know the marking he left on the letter he allowed to reach him.  Time enough for them all later, the Crow’s Eye knew, but I’ve a whole kingdom before me, left open and inviting…

Things were different now she was settled in Winterfell, After some time she received a raven forwarded from Castle Black and she was pleased to finally be able to tell Theon of all that had happened. The world was a scary place right now, with imminent threat from the Lannisters and the whitewalkers beyond the wall. Her home offered some comfort. The letter received had taken longer than she’d expected, though she figured that Theon had simply been busy and perhaps too worried to send it when she might not have survived the next few days.

Dear Theon,

      Some time back the idea of leaving Bran with a wildling would have terrified me, though I know better now. Some can be good. It is true that they did the majority, but had it been the Boltons they would have had no chance as they did with you.

      Your comments on the Dragon Queen are interesting, I both look forward and dread our inevitable meet. However, knowing Tyrion Lannister sits beside her does leave me some peace. You must remember I was wed to him for some time, he was always kind to me. Perhaps he will also put in some good words for me. I am glad though that she is pushing her own ways on the Iron Isles, I believe that will be for the best. I hope your people are willing to change in the end. 

     Jon insists that they are real, I have heard stories of them from a couple of wildling men too now. I must believe it is true, your Dragon Queen will soon have to learn that the Lannisters are not the only enemy now winter comes. 

       As you will have guessed from my writing at all, Jon and I have successfully retaken Winterfell! I am so happy, though I know that we have made many enemies in doing such. The Lannisters will never simply let us keep it despite our birthright. 

       The battle did not go smoothly. Seeing Ramsay ride up to me the day after I wrote my past letter made me sick to my stomach, made me feel dirty all over like I could scratch my own skin off. He threatened and claimed to be a man of mercy. I told him he would die. 

      The saddest news is that I was right, Ramsay played Jon. I was not there to see it, I think I’m happy I wasn’t though. I don’t think my heart could take it.. Ramsay had Rickon run across the battlefield while he shot arrows at him. Jon of course tried to save him, and in turn was left alone in the middle when Ramsay sent his forces at Jon alone. Rickon died by Ramsay’s arrows. I had prepared myself for it, I knew if Ramsay intended to win Rickon would die, but it still hurts. He has been buried in the crypts. 

     The Knights of the Vale arrived in time to save our army who were surrounded and being suffocated. I watched them plow down all of Ramsay’s fighters, and watched as Ramsay ran to hide behind the walls of Winterfell. We got through and Jon fought Ramsay to the floor. 

     I fed Ramsay to his dogs. I watched him be eaten alive.   

     I did not tell Jon what he and I spoke of before he died, I am scared to acknowledge any of it. He told me that I couldn’t kill him really, he was part of me now. In return I told him his entire house would disappear. The moment he realised his loyal hounds were too hungry to care who he was pleased me, the fear in his eyes as he faced death. I still worry though: what if he was right? 

    I am finding some comfort in my home, I feel stronger, more myself. Do not worry, I have no trust for Petyr Baelish, I needed his men and last time I saw him he told me he was sorry for leaving me with the Boltons. I do not feel like I now owe him, he did far too much when he left me with Ramsay to claim any favour for using his knights now. Sometimes I think I can read him and then I remember I cannot read him at all. 

     The houses of the North gathered and declared Jon as King in the North, just like Robb. He worries that he is not a Stark, but I believe he can do this. I believe him a Stark. Littlefinger insists they should rally behind me instead, but as you say, that seems to be for his own agenda. 

     I heard about all that happened in Kings Landing at the trial of Cersei Lannister and it saddens me. I cared little for the bastard King Tommen or the High Sparrow and his followers, but my one true friend of my time in Kings Landing, Margaery Tyrell has passed in the wildfire explosion of the Sept of Baelor. Margaery and her grandmother Lady Olenna Tyrell were always kind to me, and the idea that all of Lady Tyrell’s family are gone as well as the future of the house angers me greatly. I have yet another reason to hate them. This in turn leaves me excited for yours and the Dragon Queen’s landing in Westeros.

      I hope you are happy to hear of my success and Ramsay’s death, we need no longer fear of recapture. Looking to the future, I hope greatly to locate Bran and Arya, and though I am trying not to get my hopes up too high, perhaps they are both alive and surviving somewhere and can return to Jon and I at Winterfell. 

    Wishing you a safe landing and survival in your upcoming battles,

                   Lady Sansa of House Stark

When she reread her letter she was happy to be able to give some good news. Rickon’s death still haunted her, but at least now she could tell Theon Greyjoy that there was no chance he could ever become Reek once more. All Boltons were dead, Ramsay had seen to that when he killed his entire family. A foolish and cocky move, but one she was grateful for. 

Ygritte shook her head. “You’re the sister of a King. I have a feelin’ he’ll find a proper man for ya. I’ll warn ya, the wildling men are gonna want ya. Kissed by fire and all. They can’t stop starin’ at your mother or your brother.” She only knew what little she had seen that it may taken the other girl sometime to trust others.

She sighed about Tormund. “He didn’t fuck a bear. Just likes to talk big.”  Ygritte didn’t like to think of the wall coming down and the horn being found. She had told Robb about it but she decided not worry Sansa about it. “Aye, I’ll be happy to see ya too. If he wasn’t promised to someone, I would have stolen ‘im. His strength and power, loyalty. He would have been perfect for me.” She laughed for a moment. “Probably shouldn’t be talkin’ like that now that he’s my king and all.”

Sansa shrugged, remembering her talks to Cersei, she’d been married to a King and hadn’t seemed pleased. Robb could try as he liked (if she escaped) but she worried and would worry until she was proven wrong. She didn’t love the sound of an army of men looking at her like that, she’d stay glued to her brother’s side, or at least someone she trusted. “That sounds scary, flattering but scary.”

Sansa giggled softly, “I don’t entirely understand how that is a brag but thank you for warning me.” She shook her head slightly with her smile. “You’d have to live down here forever if you did, like a lady.” She reminded, finding it slightly weird to hear her speak so openly about a man, her brother no less. She’d heard girls talk of him before, but it was veiled. “I wont tell him, promise. You’ll find someone too, I’m sure. You... don’t have anyone in your own group?”

Letters of Ice and Iron: Sansa and Theon

The letter grasped in his hand was beginning to crumple from the force with which he gripped it.  The Theon Greyjoy who wrote back to Sansa in Volantis was not the same one that fled from Pyke, nor the same that escaped Winterfell.  I had to change, he knew, if I want to be any use to anyone.  His head was swimming from the queer news he had read from Sansa, but winter was indeed coming, and winters as long as this one promised to be always brought strange happenings.  

Dear Sansa,

     Your concern is appreciated, but you truly ought not to fret over the man that took your castle and allowed the Boltons to take it in turn.  That you spared my life at all after we got away from Ramsay is more than your due.

     I write to you from the port of Volantis.  Yara and those still loyal to her left on the fastest of our fleet during our uncle’s coronation.  There might be danger in sending a letter with such knowledge, but he likely already knows what we intend to do.  That is, it is our intention to entreat this Dragon Queen in Meereen to side with us.

     As I’m sure you learned well from your time in King’s Landing, there was always talk of a surviving Tarygaryen across the Narrow Sea.  Here in Volantis, they have far more than vague rumor about her.  They say she is a conqueror as fierce as Aegon, with three great dragons and an armied of Unsullied.  They also say she has a murderous hatred for slavery, and that she has bathed the Ghiscari cities in dragonfire.  Yara never voices it, but I think she knows that this Daenerys might just as easily look upon the Ironborn with similar disdain.

     You’re right, Sansa, and I thank you for saying so.  Much of me was still Reek, even after leaving the… bastard’s reach, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to live.  You have helped me, and so has my sister.  Much of what I was has been stripped away, but I am still Ironborn.  I want to live, I want to fight for my life, I want to help Yara rid our Isles of Euron for good.

     Spare no concern for my dead father, I beg you.  He was a cruel, selfish man whose finest quality was that he was not Euron.  Your father, Lord Stark, was more father to me than Balon Greyjoy.  Wronging him, your brother, and your House was a shame I don’t know if I can ever unburden myself of, but I am willing to try now.

      The army beyond the wall must be a fierce one, if disorganized and on questionable loyalty.  If your brother truly means to use them in retaking Winterfell, I hope that there are enough of them, and that he can mobilize them well.  With Roose gone, the Bolton army will be in a less certain state.  For all of his cruelty and games, Ramsay is a weaker commander, and does not have the same influence over his bannermen as his father.  It may be that some of the Northern lords will come to your aid.

      I have no love for Jon, as you well know, but I do hope that he was able to find justice for the mutiny.  I know not how he could have come back, but on the Isles, we do say that what is dead may never die.  Perhaps the Drowned God watches over Jon.  I am certain that he would scowl if you told him that.

     You are right, Sansa, Ramsay cannot be left to hold the North.  I was afraid for you, and still so afraid of him, and it blinded me.  You have been braver than I this whole time, and even now as my fear of the bastard is slowly abating, I know you are braver.  If you and Jon believe you can expel the Boltons, then it is your duty, but please, do not let Ramsay take you again.  I could not bear the thought.

     It is good to hold on to whatever comfort you can, I realize that now.  I can never go back to Winterfell, but I believe I might have strength enough to take back Pyke, and make a home of it.  Or, if nothing else, strength enough to die as an Ironborn.  I remember much of it, though it brings me pain to do so.  Training at swords with Robb is my most cherished memory, and the one that brings me most sorrow.  It occurs to me now how much pain those memories must have brought you when you were brought back to Winterfell.  I hope that you can change it all.

     We leave Volantis by the light of next dawn, and I daresay we will have made port in Slaver’s Bay by the time you receive a raven.  Do send thanks to my uncle Rodrik if you would, for he assumes risk in forwarding these letters under the nose of the Crow’s Eye.  I look forward to hearing of your acquisition of your family home, and I hope that little Rickon can be spared as well: the boy deserves none of what he has seen in recent years.

     With fervent hopes for your success,

                Theon of House Greyjoy

Theon gave the courier a handful of Volantene coins stamped with dour skulls, and watched as the man boarded his ship.  Sending missives from such distances always chanced loss, or worse, falling into the wrong hands, but exchanging words with the last Lady of House Stark was worth it.  He had told his sister that justice would be his head on a spike, but he felt that the correspondence he held with Sansa was its own sort of justice, and it felt good to call him what he was, a bastard.  We shall never forget, but together, we might grow stronger for it…

Sansa sat furious in her tent after another argument with Jon about their forces. The small amount they had accrued from the Mormonts did nothing, despite Lady Lyanna Mormont’s insistence that they fought with the might of ten men. She had hardly had time to worry for Theon, though she did when her mind went to him, usually at night. Ramsay came with them. The news of a raven cheered her up greatly, pleased that he had survived, pleased that he could still write to her. She read quickly and immediately penned a response.

Dear Theon,

        You may have taken it first, but the Boltons would have taken it anyway. They were aligned with the Lannisters and they had proclaimed us traitors. It would have happened had it still been my family holding the castle. In some ways I can be thankful, you gave Bran and Rickon a chance to survive at least. Had the Boltons taken it from us, I imagine they would have died some time back. 

       I’m glad to hear you have safely escaped the Iron Isles, it made me smile in a time where that has been hard. I had heard of the surviving Tarygaryen, though your description does instill some fear. If she intends to take Westeros with her dragons and armies, I doubt us Starks will be able to hold if she wants for revenge against those who killed her father, especially after marching against the Boltons. Perhaps there will be a chance for peace, Jon and I do not wish for the Iron Throne, we simply want to be home, safe, and to survive.

      I’m glad that you are becoming more like yourself with the passing days, and even happier to know that you intend to live. There were times that I too considered death, but we must survive for our families and each other. I can tell Jon what happened but he will never understand. 

      Apologies for being unclear, I do not worry for your dead father, but that he was murdered. People like Euron and Cersei Lannister are dangerous, I’ve learnt that over and over and I do not wish to see him on the Iron Throne. I hope that you can take back the Iron Isles shortly. 

     The wildlings are certainly fierce and I believe they like Jon. He was betrayed for letting wildlings beyond the Wall, a decision he defends. He says he saw an army of whitewalkers, fought them, and he had to protect them lest they become the creatures as well. Ramsay may not be a good leader nor does he hold the same support, but he is smart and he holds Rickon. He will have something planned, I know it! Jon and the others think they know what they are doing, but they can’t know what they are facing. They have never met him. 

      We went to some of the northern houses to ask for their support but we have only received support from the Mormonts of Bear Island, they had very little to offer you can imagine. We do not have enough men, but Jon intends to start this war in the next few days as he believes the longer we wait, the better it will be for Ramsay. I have not told anyone, and I do hope that this raven isn’t intercepted but I have done something risky and asked Petyr Baelish for his Knights of the Vale. We cannot win without men. I know I cannot trust him though. 

       Fear of Ramsay is understandable, I am scared too, and I will die before I let myself be taken back by him. I may be being brave now Theon, but I will remind you that when we escaped you turned yourself back over  to his men in order to let me escape, thank the gods Brienne turned up, but you were willing to go back to Ramsay to keep be safe. You are brave. 

       I must admit it is a very small comfort, though sometimes the memories can make me smile. Often they make me sad, for Robb, for missing Bran and Arya, for Rickon trapped with Ramsay. I tried not to think of it when there with him, though it was hard not to remember that it was Robb’s room I was in on our wedding night an onwards. I hope that if we take back Winterfell I am able to find some peace in my old room, it is smaller but it does not hold the same pain. 

      I will of course send thanks to your uncle. By the time you receive this raven I believe we shall have marched against Ramsay, and should you not hear from me again I shall be dead or Ramsay will have taken me, though I have no intention of letting that happen. I hope to hear more of your meeting with the Dragon Queen, if she does take Westeros hopefully we can become allies so long as she is saner than her father. We do not need another mad ruler. 

     With best wishes,

                 Lady Sansa of House Stark

Sansa was just about to seal the letter when she was advised they would meet Ramsay in the morning, and with nervous hands she reopened the letter for a postscript.

       I have just been told we are meeting with Ramsay and his men tomorrow, and the war shall take place the day after. I doubt I shall sleep tonight, the thoughts of seeing him cloud my mind and make my stomach turn. I hope to hear from you soon, and I hope that I am able to write back. 

Finally sealing the letter, she handed it to be sent and sat in her tent unable to sleep from nerves and terrifying thoughts of what Ramsay would do to her should she be taken back. 

The Greyjoy was still caught in fits of laughter.  This is far too rich to ignore, he mused, what luck that I chose this moment to pass by her chambers.  Underneath the cruel japing, however, a secret hope was rekindled in his mind.  In the evenings when he would steal away to the godswood to be alone, Theon would brood for long hours over the Stark children and how happy their lives were.  He would read over the few, short, cold letters that his family would send him, and nurse a secret wish that he could be a Stark instead.  He wouldn’t even say it aloud for fear someone might hear.  

He thought to himself that if he continued his friendship with Robb, and served Lord Stark well when called upon, that he might be married to Sansa when she came of age.  A girl’s furtive comments to her friend were no betrothal, but it was something.  He was loath to let her know of that, though, lest he be teased as mercilessly as he was teasing her.  

“What would you have me do with this knowledge, my lady?” he asked in jesting curiosity.  He folded the note and tucked it into a pocket, carelessly releasing the others that had gone unread.  “I ought to be kinder to you, if you’re to be my lady love.  I could be a good Sta-” He bit his tongue, but he had revealed more than enough.  Shit, he thought, mayhaps she misheard, or misunderstood.  Seven hells, curse my fool tongue….

“It’s not funny!” Sansa almost stomped her foot to make her point but knew that he would simply laugh at that too, just like Arya did. It didn’t make sense that he’d laugh, Sansa had assumed that men would be flattered in some way that a highborn girl like her would think them handsome. Theon made her doubt that with his cackles, looking more and more upset every time he laughed at her.

He was making her regret ever thinking of him that way, ever telling Jeyne that sometimes she’d watch him practice with her brothers and admire his archery skills. He was no knight, but he was tall and handsome and talented. He was almost like the stories, and one of the closest to her age. “Keep it a secret?” She asked hopefully, he’d said he could, now she just had to make him agree.

“Yes you ought to, I-…” She stopped, mortified at practically agreeing to be his love. She almost didn’t catch him slip up, but when he did it was her time to smile incredulously. “You could be a good Stark?” She repeated questioningly, and then giggled, blushing again. “You want to be my husband! You want to be a Stark by marriage!”

“Aye, it was bad. It ain’t suppose to be. Men say that to keep women in there place. I’ll find me a proper lover one day.” She was sure of that if nothing else. She wondered if Robb was truly promised to another. Then again, she had no desire to be a queen. 

She rolled her eyes at asking if Tormund would try and scare her. “No, he’ll just try and tell ya a story about a bear he never fucked. Or something else equally as stupid.” She loved Tormund but some days, she wished to strangle him. “Yeah, white walkers and wights too. That’s why we came ‘ver ‘ere. The Wall will keep there.” Or so she hoped. She was caught off guard by the question of her beliefs. “Aye, we keep the Old Gods. Starks and wildlings ain’t that different. We got the same blood of the First Men. Your brother reminded his knights of that.” 

“I fear that’s all it will ever be.” Sansa confessed despite only knowing this girl truthfully for the day. She’d learnt some time ago the Knights were unkind, her handsome Prince liked to see her hurt but pretty. She dreaded the day he would be allowed to touch her, she couldn’t imagine what he would do to her behind closed doors.

“He what?” Sansa asked in surprise, grimacing at the thought. The wildling did not have much of a filter, it was almost like overhearing Theon in the courtyard. “That’s terrifying, I don’t know how you survived past the wall honestly. It sounds dreadfully dangerous. I hope so, what would we do if it didn’t? I don’t like to think of it.” Sansa grinned at the knowledge Ygritte was sharing, especially about Robb. “I’m glad to hear of it, he’s a good man. I can’t wait to see him again, I can’t wait to not have to lie.”