#s8ep2

“I should go,” Theon stated, rising from the table. He needed still to gather his weapons of dragon glass, gracing them with a few more minutes together.

Sansa nodded, standing with him. “I’ll come with you.” Theon nodded, but did not smile. Sansa did not seem him smile often anymore, and it pained her. Smiling had once been so natural for him. And for her, too, she supposed. The walk to the armory was short and uncrowded, most men had gathered their weapons hours before. Sansa walked close to Theon, close enough that their arms brushed against one another as they moved. “Promise me you will come home,” Sansa said, her voice barely above a whisper. It was fool’s request, a sign of the stupid, naïve little girl she no longer was. “I promise Bran will come home. And I promise to try my hardest to be at his side,” Theon offered. Sansa stopped in her tracks, and Theon stopped next to her. 

Sansa reached out, taking his hands in hers. “I need you to come home to be at my side,” she said, her voice gaining strength. The truth of her words surprised her. She did not know when she had fallen in love with Theon Greyjoy, but when he asked to fight for Winterfell and they wrapped their arms around each other, she knew she had.

“Sansa,” Theon began, his wide-eyes locked on their hands. “You know that cannot happen.” His eyes moved to hers, an intensity burning there.

She frowned, “Why can’t it?”

“I don’t get to be with you. You don’t end-up with me,” his voice was soft, but his eyes did not leave hers. “You don’t want me.”

“Why does everyone else presume to know what I want? I was the prisoner of a man I did not want. I have been married to two men I did not want. But I am not the girl I was then. I get to decide what and who I want now.” His gaze had fallen back to their hands, their fingers woven together. Eye contact was not easy for him, she knew. “Theon... I want you.” 

Those bright eyes rose to meet hers, filled with an emotion she could not explain. They shone with the promise of tears, and a light she had almost forgotten he possessed flickered in them. He smiled. The full-face, goofy, genuine smile she treasured. She removed her hands from his, placing one on his cheek. “I want you,” she repeated, smiling herself, before pulling him into a kiss.

His lips were soft, gentle. The moment hers touched his her heart began to soar, the chaos around them melting away; there was nothing but her and Theon and an emotional understanding no one else would ever know. She didn’t know a kiss could be like this. She didn’t know a kiss could heat her skin in a blessed way, that it could make her heart flutter in her chest, that it could make her feel safe, and loved.

She felt his hand on the back of her head, gentle at first, but pulling her closer when she did not tense at the touch. His fingers wove through her auburn hair, and goosepimples crawled along her flesh. Her own hands had become tangled in his hair, holding onto him as though she never had to let go.

“she’s flying it.”

“of course she is. what else would she be doing?”