Chapter Text
There wasn't much time to think. His muscles were sore, even the slightest movement made him clench his jaw in pain. But that wouldn't stop him. Pain stopped bothering him a long time ago, and this pain was nothing compared to what he already endured.
His men were all dead at his feet, but there was also no time to feel guilty of leading these Ironborn to their death. Theon couldn't afford to do anything else than rotate his body around and put his spear deep inside whichever part of those walkers that he could reach.
His breathing was coming in shot pants through his mouth ad his knees wouldn't stop trembling, but he couldn't sop. Not until they were all dead. Or until he was.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
''Theon,''
Theon turned back, looking at Bran. There wasn't any expression in the boy's face, but Theon didn't remember a time he saw any these days. The Night King was right there, what could Bran possibly want?
''You're a good man,''
Theon's heart missed a beat. A good man? He was far from it, but why would Bran choose this very moment to-
''Thank you.''
Oh. Oh. So this was it. Theon took a trembling breath as the meaning of the boy's words finally sank in. His eyes moved around, taking it all in. This place was once his heaven, and then more so, his hell. His only regret was that he would die so far away from the sea. He knew Yara would be okay. He hoped Sansa wouldn't grieve him. He wasn't deserving of her tears.
He felt one single tear escaping from his eye and he let it. For who he was crying, he wasn't sure. Theon stopped caring about his own life a long time ago.
If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention.
Theon gripped his spear harder, and turned around once again, this time facing the unforgiving blue eyes of the Night King. He always thought he would die by another set of blue eyes, but this one was better. Safer.
Something that resembled nostalgia hit him hard and he nearly gasped. He wished Ramsay could be here to see this. To watch him die as Theon.
Who are you really?
Reek, I'm Reek.
Until when?
Always. Forever.
Theon took one last breath, and then he ran.
His vision was very clear. The point of his spear pointed at the Night King's heart. The white walkers remaining weren't moving, and the King's blue eyes were on him the entire time.
Until they weren't. It all happened in seconds. He barely took five steps when he saw those blue eyes move to something behind him. And then his body was thrown back by a hand in the back of his armour. Theon fell hard on the ground, and when he looked around, there were at least fifty men in front of him and Bran, all with their own weapons pointed at the remaining white walkers that now seemed to be surprised and confused as to what to do next.
Theon looked up to Bran sitting beside him, and he wasn't surprised to find that the boy didn't seem disturbed by the sudden appearance of so many men.
Who are they?
At last, the King made his decision, and the moment he raised his hands, Theon got up, gripping his spear and standing directly in front of Bran. He was going to die, he knew it. There was no way he could fight like he just had with all those dead men. His body was aching, his muscles tired and his head was pounding. But he would do what needed to be done. No more running. Not ever.
Theon felt the softest touch of wind on his face, and before the dead could run in their direction, something appeared out of nowhere, from behind the Nigh King's back. The King turned around in time to catch it his one outstretched hand. But it wasn't a thing, it was someone... Theon took two steps to the right to see clearly and-
Arya!
The girl had jumped on the King's back and she had a dagger on her right hand, but before she could do anything with it, the King's free hand closed around her wrist, and Theon could see the moment when he squeezed
her neck and there was the terrible sound of her trying to breathe through his fist.
''No! Arya!'' Theon screamed as he ran forwards, but yet again, one of the men grabbed him and pushed him back.
''You are not dying today. Not on my watch.'' The man said with a rough tone;
''Who are you? Let me go, now!'' Theon snapped, trying once again to get past the man, but the other one standing beside him also held him down.
Before Theon could say anything else, there was a loud, deafening sound of ice breaking down, and he looked at Arya in time to see her falling hard on the ground, and the Nigh King exploding on little sharp pieces of ice. All of the ones behind him had the same fate, exploding in thin air, while his soldiers simply crumbled to the ground, one after the other.
The men finally let him go and when they turned around to leave, Theon caught sight of a cross on their chests. He let out a whoosh of breath and fell to his knees, eyes wide while he watched them leave.
That was definitely the Bolton cross. Theon spent years staring at it, there was no mistake. But why?
Before he could go over all the reasons why there were Bolton men trying to defend him, a hand touched his cheek and lifted his face. He was staring at Arya, who looked proud and worried.
''Are you hurt?'' The girl asked softly. Theon could only gather enough strength to shake his head, and then Arya's expression turned into a full-on smirk as she extended her hand and helped him up.
''Good fight. You killed all of these?'' She asked with a surprised tone.
''With the help of my men- Arya! You killed him, you- You did it!''
Arya smiled then, punching him softly on the shoulder.
''I did, didn't I?''
''Great work,'' Bran said when they reached him. ''To the both of you.'' Bran then looked at Theon, and his faintly surprised expression was more then Theon had seen in him these past days. ''I saw you die. Those men weren't supposed to be here. Do you know who they were?''
Theon's mouth parted slightly before he gave Bran a quick shake of his head, hands trembling. The Stark boy stared at him for a moment too long, before nodding as well.
''It doesn't really matter who they were,'' Arya said, moving behind Bran so that she could push his wheelchair. ''What matters is that you're ok. We are ok.'' She finished with a light squeeze on Bran's left shoulder.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Theon walked through Winterfell's courtyard, trying his best not to step on anyone's dead bodies. His eyes scanned through all of them, desperately trying not to think about seeing a red-haired girl in the middle of them.
She wouldn't have left, she knew better than to leave...
Theon repeated this to himself until he reached the doors of the crypts. He took a deep breath before entering, scared beyond words of what he would find in there.
The first thing he saw was dead bodies A lot of dead bodies. His heart was beating out of his chest when he rushed down the stairs, supporting his hands on the walls as to not to fall.
''Sansa!?'' Theon called, reaching the bottom of the stairs, turning left and-
''Theon? Theon!'' He felt her before he heard her, her arms were tight around his neck and it took everything for him not to cry of relief as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
''You're ok, you're ok,'' Theon whispered, and at that moment he wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself of her. ''You're safe.''
''Well?''
Theon let go of Sansa and she stepped away to reveal Tyrion Lannister staring at him, his arms stretched as he asked again.
''Well then? Is this a goodbye-hug or we won-hug?''
The rest of the people were coming closer, some of them holding their children tight to their chests, and others holding each other's hands. They all looked so scared.
''Theon?'' Sansa called, taking his hand. Her whole body was trembling.
For the first time in he didn't even know how long, the corners of his mouth stretched into a real smile.
''We won.''
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
''Bolton sigil? Are you sure?''
Theon took another gulp of wine before answering.
''Yes, I'm sure they were Bolton's men.''
Sansa's lips formed a thin line in her face. Her cheeks were slightly red from the wine she had at the celebrations and she was already in her nightgowns, with a heavy fur coat draped over her.
Theon was sitting at one chair that was moved to be placed at the side of her bed, where she was sat at. He had taken off his armour and was now in simple leather clothing and his gloves.
''Why would he send them here?,'' Theon asked, his voice trembling. ''You think he's going to try-''
''No,'' Sansa quickly answered, fetching his hand and squeezing it. ''Did they try to capture you? After Arya killed the Nigh King, did they try anything at all?''
''No,'' Theon shook his head. ''I-... I didn't, I...''
''Theon. Breathe,'' Sansa removed her legs from under the blankets and sat face to face with Teon, still holding his hand. '' What is it?''
''I was going to die, Sansa. I- I was all alone and the Night King was... He was right there.''
Sansa didn't reply, but she very clearly swallowed and her grip on Theon's hand tightened.
''They came out of nowhere and pulled me back, they wouldn't let me fight. They... I think that they saved me. I think they only came here to save me.''
Sansa did let go of his hand now, she stood up and walked around her bed only to stand in front of the fireplace, looking at the flames without saying a word. Theon couldn't see her face from this angle, but the tension on her shoulders was clear.
''Sans-''
''He saved you,'' Sansa said with as much disgust as she could put in a phrase. '' Ramsay saved you.'' She spat out his name like only saying it caused her great distress.
Theon swallowed before looking down to his own feet. He felt tears start to form in the corners of his eyes and he hated, more than anything, how weak he was.
''I'm sorry.'' He managed to say, and even so his voice has rough and he stopped talking so he wouldn't burst out in tears.
Sansa turned around, her eyes wide.
''You're sor- No, Theon!,'' The girl hushed to his side, kneeling in front of him, holding his face in her hands. ''You have nothing to be sorry about, do you hear me?''
''He keeps coming back.'' Now Theon was truly crying, his shoulds shaking just like the rest of his body. His lungs seemed to be getting smaller and smaller because he couldn't draw a proper breath, he couldn't breathe.
''Theon?'' Sansa called, noticing how badly the man was breathing. ''Theon, please breathe, come on, breathe with me,'' Sansa said, her voice unsure.
''I- I can't... Sansa-,'' Theon choked, curling his body forwards so that he could rest his forehead on Sansa's shoulders. The girl's arms immediately wrapped around Theon's body, one around his shoulders and the other around his waist, resting her hand on his back.
''Shhh... It's ok Theon, you're ok... We're ok.''
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After Daenerys had left for Dragonstone with her army and the remaining Northmen, Sansa was in charge of the North. She commanded the reconstruction of Winterfell and granted masons to help rebuild the villages close to Winterfell that were also destroyed. They received a raven from South, reporting the death of one of Daenerys dragons.
Theon remained with Sansa at Winterfell after Daenerys allowed him to stay. The Lords of the other houses that helped in the war also remained in Winterfell, anticipating news of Daenerys victory or defeat to learn what was the future of the North.
Weeks passed without news, and Sansa worried for her sister and brother in silence while trying to soothe the Lords and help the common people of the north that needed help to rebuild their lives.
When the news finally came, Sansa almost ripped the paper in half over her anxiety. Jon had written her that Cersei didn't stand a chance. After the death of Rhaegal, Dany became unstoppable. She destroyed Cersei's army in less than three minutes, and her own army could enter the city without further delay. The city surrendered within one hour of combat. Yara Greyjoy had appeared with a hundred ships, that surrounded Euron Greyjoy's fleet and the ships she couldn't take, Daenerys burned after the city's surrender.
Apparently, Jaime Lannister had returned to the capitol to try and save his sister. Unfortunately for him, Arya Stark got to him first and killed him. Jon seemed confused to describe how Arya had used his face to get to Cersei and kill her.
When the battle was over, Daenerys was crowned the Queen of the six kingdoms and protector of the realm.
''Six kingdoms?'' Sansa muttered to herself, rereading to make sure she read it right.
''Continue,'' Theon said, the only one in the room with her.
In honour of the many Northmen that died during the battle of Winterfell, and in respect for the history of the biggest of the seven kingdoms, Queen Daenerys declared Sansa of the House Stark the true Queen in the North, having been said that Jon will remain with her in the capitol. Unfortunately, the crowning ceremony for Daenerys has already taken place, but she wishes good fortune for her fellow queen.
Sansa folded the letter and looked up to Theon with wide eyes.
''She really- Theon, I am...,''
Theon smiled as he took out his sword and knelt in front of Sansa, who was now standing with one hand supporting herself on the table and the other hovering over her heart.
''My Queen. My sword is yours and so is my heart. Long may you reign.''
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sansa thought that walking down through the corridor of men kneeling and wielding their swords would make her nervous. But it didn't. It felt right like she finally found what she had been looking for all this time.
When she sat down on her throne, she looked at Theon, who was standing beside her, as her Queen's guard. He smiled at her when they placed the crown in her head. Her crown. And she was finally home.
She would make her parents proud. She would make Robb proud. She would take care of the people in the north like they were her own children and she would keep them safe and happy.
Whatever it took.
THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH
The queen in the north!
The Queen in the north.