Chapter Text
Robb watched as the ship bearing his mother and one of his sisters eased into the harbor. There was still no word from Arya, save for a cryptic message that had arrived two days after the Battle of Pyke had been won: Tell Mother I’m sorry and Theon that he’s safe so long as I’m in Braavos. I know we will meet again, Robb.
What will I tell Mother? he worried as the boat laid anchor. She was already quite displeased with the idea of spending any sort of time on the Iron Islands, but Winterfell had still not been recaptured and was in disarray in any event. They would make do with the hospitality from his lady wife’s House for the time being.
Asha had warned that, although Euron Greyjoy had been disposed and was currently rotting in the dungeons beneath the castle at Pyke—even the Greyjoys were hesitant to become kinslayers—Victarion may yet come back for another try at the throne. Though she didn’t put any stock in this “dragon nonsense,” as she called it. She suggested they hasten the wedding, just in case.
A rowboat was lowered down from the ship, and Robb saw two heads of bright red hair among its crew. His heart soared. For the moment, everything was right. They’d taken Pyke, he’d forged an alliance with the Greyjoys, Roose Bolton was floundering with the loss of his son and heir, and Robb had his family by his side again.
Theon elbowed him in the ribs. “With all these redheads around, it’s beginning to feel like the old days, eh?”
“More color than these islands have seen for a long time, I’d wager,” Robb agreed.
“Is it true, by the way? Did your uncle end up marrying that Frey girl? The one who led us out of the Twins?”
“So Mother says. She also says it wasn’t her idea.”
“Probably the girl’s idea. She couldn’t have you, so she went for the next closest thing.”
“The next closest thing?”
Theon smiled. “Her loss, of course. Not all of us can be lucky enough to have the real Robb Stark, after all.”
“Consider yourself lucky, do you?”
“The luckiest.”
The rowboat carrying Catelyn, Sansa, and a number of other passengers came up alongside the dock, and a grizzled oarsman began helping the women and children up. Robb hurried to greet his mother and sister, but the first one off the boat was a toddler who took off running at full steam. The mother back on the boat called out, “Theon!” and Robb whipped around to grab the kid’s scruff before he could topple over the end of dock. The mother didn’t wait for her own help, instead crawling her way onto the pier and running towards Robb with a relieved expression on her face.
“Thank you, thank you, ser. He’s just learned to walk, y’see.”
Robb hefted the child into the woman’s arms. “Fine lad. Theon, was it?”
She nodded.
The oarsman was helping Catelyn up first.
“Common name on the Islands?”
The woman shrugged. “Named after his father.”
The oarsman took one of Sansa’s hands and Catelyn took the other. Together, they lifted her up and out of the boat. She was easily the most overdressed person for miles, though she didn’t preen the way the old Sansa would have. Right then, Robb wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and promise her that no one would ever hurt her again.
He gave the woman a cordial nod. “Keep an eye on him, okay?” He nodded to the child before sidestepping her and taking the last few running steps to his sister.
Sansa squealed in surprise as he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifted her up, and swung her around several times, just like he had when she was a child. Her squealing turned to laughter then to tears, and by the time he set her down, she had her arms thrown over his neck and was sobbing into his chest. “They told me you were dead.”
“I almost was,” he said, stroking her hair. “Would you believe the daughter of the man who tried to have me killed was the one who saved us? Her and Theon, of course.”
“Theon?” she sniffled. “I’d like to thank them. Both of them.”
“You’ll meet Roslin later, I’m sure. Edmure’s taken her as a bride. Theon, though…” He turned and waved to where Theon had held back.
Theon wasn’t watching. Instead, he was shielding his face from the woman and her child, shoulders hunched. He knew her, it seemed, and was trying to go unnoticed in the most conspicuous way possible.
“One second,” Robb said, pulling away from Sansa. “I’ve got to go rescue Theon now.” He gave her a kiss on her hairline and then ran back to Theon’s side. “What’s the matter, Theon? Ghost of tumbles past come back to haunt you?”
“More than that,” he said, looking genuinely terrified.
And then the woman was looking straight at them, and her face split into a broad smile. “Prince Theon! I knew you’d come back for me. I knew you wouldn’t leave us here by ourselves.” She hurried over and clasped a hand on his shoulder. Theon jumped and grew several shades paler. “Prince Theon, I’d like you to meet my son, Theon. Theon Pyke.” She jostled the toddler in her arms. “Theon, this is your daddy.”