Safe Anchorage: Chapter Two

[libraryseraph]

Chapter on AO3 here.

Beta'd by lanwan
Jeyne felt sick. It was her nerves, she was sure. Maybe saying her name hadn’t made things worse, but the fear was still there. She could feel it, twisting her stomach into knots and chattering in her head when she closed her eyes. The worst part was, she shouldn’t be feeling it now. Theon wanted her to see Asha, and Asha should be safe; she was Theon’s sister, after all. She clenched her fists in her skirt and stared at the table’s woodgrain. Theon had said he would stay with her. She remembered that and she had to keep remembering it, to keep the dark thoughts that moved through her mind, like a worm through an apple, away.
“I’m coming in.” Theon’s voice was muffled through the door.
“Yes.” They were his rooms, he could come in no matter what she said, but she said it anyways. Theon and Asha entered the room. Asha was strange. Her dark hair was short, and she wore men’s clothing like she had been born to it. Even recovering from her broken leg, she moved with not just power, but confidence. It was as if she knew she ruled the world, and was just waiting for everyone else to notice.
Jeyne stood up, and curtseyed as deeply as she could. “I apologize for not introducing myself properly last time we met, Lady Greyjoy. I am Jeyne Poole, daughter of Winterfell’s steward.”
Asha reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Her hand was warm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Jeyne couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to her, to Jeyne.
The three of them took seats around the small table. Theon sat within reach, and Jeyne reached out and took his hand. He let her, squeezing her hand after a moment of hesitation.
“You want to come to the Iron Islands with us?”
Jeyne’s throat was suddenly dry. “Yes, my lady. I want to stay with Theon. I can sew, and embroider, and my father taught me to handle coin.” She took a deep breath. “I can be useful, I promise.”
Asha reached out and touched the top of Jeyne’s head, cupping it gently. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take you back with us, I promise.”
Jeyne felt a rush of joy and hope, unfamiliar but welcome. “Thank you, my lady, thank you.” She was grinning like a little girl, she knew. She turned to Theon, and saw him smiling. He had his lips pulled down tight over his teeth, but he was still smiling.
“See? What did I tell you?”
Jeyne squeezed Theon’s hand, and felt him squeeze back.
“Theon.” Asha pushed back from the table. “You need to come with me. Jeyne can come too, if she wants.”
“What- what is it, my lady?”
Theon’s fingers had gone stiff in hers.
“It’s the execution.” Asha raised a hand to ward off protests. “You need to see it, Theon. You need to know that this is over.” She turned to Jeyne. “You should watch, too.”
“My lady, I don’t-” Jeyne rubbed her thumb across the back of Theon’s hand. “I don’t want to see him again. No matter what it’s like.”
“You need to know he’s dead. Both of you do.” Asha’s voice was soft, but Jeyne could feel the steel underneath.
“Let… let us watch from my window. Please. I don’t want to see it that close.”
Asha sighed. “Fine.”
Jeyne and Theon walked back to her rooms in silence. She couldn’t say anything, too caught up in the realization growing within her. It wouldn’t matter. No matter if she saw it from a window, or close enough to feel the flames lick at her own flesh, or never saw it at all, it would never be over. She felt it rising, like a tide of black water threatening to drown her, and clenched her fists in her skirt.
Jeyne was still in the rooms they’d put “Lady Arya” in after the siege. Either they hadn’t seen the need to move her, or they had seen no place to put her. The window looked out over the yard, crusted with frost that formed elaborate, flowering patterns. Jeyne scraped them away, revealing the yard. People were packed into it, with only a small clearing left for the block.
“They don’t have a pyre.” King Stannis was standing by a block, his sword at his waist.
“He’s doing it like a Northman,” Theon said, coming to stand beside her. “The Lords wouldn’t want a sacrifice to The Red God in Winterfell, especially not right after ousting a usurper.” His voice was almost too measured, flat and toneless, and Jeyne moved a little closer to him.
The guards lead Roose out first. He was following calmly, as if he was going for a stroll, and Jeyne wondered if they even needed the guards. Jeyne couldn’t hear distinct words through the window, but she could hear Stannis listing Roose’s crimes, and she saw when he was shoved to his knees in front of the block. Stannis’ sword rose, and fell, and blood spurted out, like rose petals scattered over the snow.
As the men dragged his corpse away, fear spiked in Jeyne’s chest, and when she looked over at Theon, she saw that he had gone stiff and tense. Jeyne made herself look, made herself keep her eyes open and focussed on the yard. After everything she had seen, after everything that had been done to her, there was no reason for this to be the thing that broke her. If she told herself that enough, it would be true.
Ramsay wasn’t led by the guards, he was dragged. There were five men on him, each of them gripping them tightly as he struggled against his bonds, and against them. Jeyne clenched her fists in her skirts so hard her knuckles ached. He was screaming, awful things she didn’t let herself make out, and the crowd was screaming back, louder than they had with Roose. Stannis had to shout to make the charges heard, and the first time Jeyne heard “raping” she clamped her hands over her ears. Stannis forced Ramsay to the block and raised his sword. The roaring in Jeyne’s ears rose to a higher pitch, and the sword fell. It was like a child pulling a doll’s head off. Even the blood spurting out and staining the snow a newer, brighter red didn’t change that. Where her fear had been, there was a patch of nothingness.
“Theon?”
Theon’s hands were tight on the windowsill, and he was staring into space, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Theon!” Jeyne reached for him, and he shied away from her touch, collapsing to the floor and curling into a ball. She fell to her knees next to him. “Theon, can you hear me?”
“I’m a fool. I’m a fool, and a coward.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. I can’t- I can’t believe he’s gone. I know there was a time before him, but I can’t imagine him being gone. I’m still broken.” His voice broke on the last word.
“Oh, Theon…” Jeyne reached out her hand, letting it hover just above Theon’s.
“I don’t want to be like this anymore.” He took her hand. “I don’t.”
“I know. I know.”

Jeyne practically fell off her horse at the port. The days of travel had blurred together, just one endless stretch of riding and tents, broken only when she or Theon woke up screaming or when she had to stop her horse to be sick. Even now, her stomach was unsteady and watery-feeling, and her mouth tasted of bile.
Theon clambered off his horse next to her. “Look at that…” he breathed, gazing out at the ships. The ships were crowded together and stabbing masks into the sky like a strange forest. They seemed almost too small for the port, and she said so.
“This is a river port. The ships go to the sea from here. That’s where they’re meant to be.” He was looking out over the water, his eyes wide. It was like the sun was rising on his face. For a moment, even with the ragged white hair straggling out from under his hood and his hollow cheeks and his sunken eyes, he looked young again. They stood together as Asha discussed their passage on the docks.
“I’ve never been on a ship before,” said Jeyne, leaning into Theon slightly.
“Really?”
“Is that such a shock?”
Theon’s eyes had gone so wide, it was almost comical. “I suppose not.” He made a face that was very nearly a smile. “We’ll have to fix that.”
“I’m a little scared.” Jeyne smoothed her skirt, and tried to put her words in order. “It’s… it’s something new, and that scares me.”
Theon rested a hand on her shoulder, gently and cautiously. “What are you afraid of? I don’t know if I can help, but…”
“It’s not- it’s not anything in particular. It’s just something I don’t know about, and the fact I’ve never done it before scares me. It used to happen all the time, before… before I got real things to be scared about.” Jeyne remembered, on the way to King’s Landing, telling Sansa about it, and how she didn’t want to be scared, it was silly to be scared of something so wonderful. That girl was more right than she knew. She was right to be scared.
“I’ve sailed this way before, and I’ve done it more than once. It’s not a hard journey for any decent crew.” There was a hint of pride in his voice.
Jeyne took a deep breath. “I’ll do it then. If you’re with me.”

~

Theon stood at the ship’s rail, staring out over the ocean. They were a few days out from the river’s mouth, and the ocean stretched out on all sides. The waves were the colour of iron under the clouded sky, making soft crashing noises against each other and the boat. Theon tilted his head back and took a deep breath of the crisp, clean sea air, filling his lungs with it until they ached. He had a deck under his feet again, moving to its own rhythm, and the waves slapping against it to the beat of his heart.
“Theon?” It was easier to remember his name on the ship, and he turned. Jeyne was staggering across the deck towards him. She didn’t know how to walk with the deck, reeling at every tilt and dip it made. She had been ill from the tossing of the ship, and now her face was pasty, and even more drawn then usual.
“Feeling better?”
Jeyne moaned, and leaned on the rail next to him. “I suppose. I’m just so tired, and I’ve been ill, and it’s cold.” She looked up at him. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I’m ironborn. The sea is in my blood. It doesn’t matter if it’s cold.” It was a good cold, a sharp, present cold that carried the scent of the sea with it. It kept him awake, and kept him from slipping back into darkness. He could handle a little cold for that.
“I know, but you’re still not strong.” She rested one small, gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“You should be looking after yourself.” Theon hesitantly rested a hand on her back, letting it rest there when she didn’t flinch.
“I’m fine. I’m just not used to the way the ship moves.”
She had been ill on the ride to the port too, Theon remembered, but he didn’t say anything. Jeyne turned, and smiled at him.
“It must be good to be back on the ocean again.” She reached up, and brushed a lock of pale hair out of his face. “You seem happier.”
“You have,” Theon let out a deep breath, “no idea.”
The ship hit a wave, and Jeyne staggered before catching herself on the rail. “What’s happening?” She took one hand off the rail, running it over her skirt. “Is a storm starting?”
Theon looked out over the waves. “This is just how a ship moves under a good wind. It’s not even close to a true storm.”
“I hope I never go through a true storm, then.”
“I’m an ironborn. We aren’t afraid of storms. Dying in a storm is like dying in battle, and no true ironborn flinches from a battle.”
Jeyne looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Tell me more.”
Theon leaned on the rail next to Jeyne, and told her stories of raids and storms and bloody battles.

The first night on Harlaw, Theon couldn’t sleep. When he closed his eyes, fevered, nightmarish images danced beyond the lids, and all his tendons stiffened to the point of pain. When he reached the hour of the bat having snatched no more than a few moments of sleep, he gave up, lit a lantern, and went to wander the halls of Harlaw. His feet and legs ached, but he ignored them.
A scream split the night. Theon jumped, his lantern nearly slipping from his gloved fingers. Heart pounding, he raised the lantern, searching the shadows for anything that could be lurking in them. Another wail came, this one lower but just as full of anguish, and Theon felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. It was Jeyne screaming. Ignoring his body’s protests, Theon ran to Jeyne’s room.
“Jeyne?” Theon opened the door to her room and stepped in, lantern raised. She was huddled on her bed, her face buried in her hands and her dark curls falling around her face.
“I had-” She was still crying, her words broken by sobs. “I had a nightmare and I woke up and- and it was dark and I was alone.” She snuffled, and wiped at her face with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
Theon put his lantern down on the bedtable, and sat on the bed next to her. “You didn’t wake me.”
“I dreamt- I dreamt about King’s Landing. That first time, I’d been alone for days, and I screamed and screamed but nobody came, and this man came in. I asked him to help me and he looked at me and- and he laughed, and pushed me to the bed…” Her voice trailed into sobbing.
“Oh, Jeyne…”
“Hold me.” Jeyne’s voice was a tiny, quavering thing. Theon reached out to her, folding his wasted arms around her, and Jeyne grabbed him, pulling herself to him with surprising force. Her face was pressed into his wasted chest, and Theon reached up to cup her head with one mangled hand. He held her as sobs wracked her thin body, letting her pour her sadness out.
“I thought- I remember thinking that this was it, that this was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, that it couldn’t get any more horrible than that, but I was wrong and it just kept getting worse-“
“Shhhh, shhhhh,” he soothed, trying to remember what Asha had done for him. “It’s over now. It’s over.” This was something, Theon thought, to be here for Jeyne as she wept, to hold her without fear. Slowly, Jeyne’s sobs dissolved into snuffles and small, hiccupping noises.
“You need to go back to sleep. I’ll stay with you.” Theon reached over and slipped his shoes off, sliding under the covers with Jeyne.
Jeyne smiled sleepily up at him, before nuzzling back into his chest. “I know you will.” Theon thought he might weep at that, at the trust on her face. He put his arms back around her and pulled her close, as if he could protect her. Jeyne wrapped her arms back around him, her hold gentle and tender. Theon still couldn’t sleep, but lying there, wrapped in the furs and blankets, with Jeyne warm in his arms and her arms secure around him, was almost as good.