A/N: Wah, thanks for all these reviews! :)
Megan: I'm glad you think Theon's IC, and that you think Alma's believable. I worry about that most when I write!
PhoenixRage92: Thank you! I'll definitely continue it since people seem to like it, along with BHLN.
thePatient07: Your review makes me feel so proud I've managed to do that, hopefully I don't let you down!
Garota Anonima: Thanks! And don't worry, I think I have a thing for the bad boys as well (especially the misunderstood ones)!
Shata: I cannot see Theon being romantic at all! I mean, maybe to some extent, but the most sentimental we see him getting over a woman is when Ros leaves... and he asks her to flash her goods at him. Yeah ... gotta love him.
Trulzxoxo: I have NO idea how I'd even go about making a YouTube video for this, haha. But if anyone wanted to try, I would feel honored and certainly would not object!
ber1719: Thank you, and I'll try! And of course I have to fit the Starks in, though I can promise you this won't turn into a muddled love triangle or anything. Alma's relationship with the Stark boys is purely like siblings. :)
1stDeathAnniversary: I have read the books, almost done ADWD. Poor, poor Theon, I feel so bad for the guy. And here's me continuing, so don't worry!
Okay, SO. This chapter is pretty freakin' short, I'm sad to say. Again, I just wanted to put in their interactions before we get down to the nitty gritty, since this chapter is during the first episode.
I hope you guys enjoy anyways!
I don't own GOT or ASOIAF.
"Just one cup," Theon urged, thrusting the wine in her face.
"I've already had one," Alma waved him off, her speech slightly slurred.
The feast held at Winterfell in honor of the King was magnificent; there was so much laughter and cheer that the castle walls wouldn't even need the hot springs flowing within them to make it warm. The food was plentiful, along with the drink – which, against her better judgement and Theon's persuasion, she'd had a good amount of. It was a good thing her father was wasn't sitting at the table with the Stark children as she was; no doubt she'd get an earful about it.
"More like four," The ward smirked, still persistant. "What harm will one more do?"
I don't know why I even listened to him, Alma thought, swaying slightly on her seat as she tried to glare at Theon. Of course, his making fun of her and suggesting she was too weak to handle a bit of wine did naught to help. Alma was about to open her mouth for a retort that her wine addled mind hadn't even thought of yet when there was a horrified gasp from Sansa.
"Arya!" She screeched, a glob of food stuck on her cheek. Jeyne hastily grabbed a hankerchief and began to wipe it away. "It's not funny!"
The whole tabled exploded in laughter. Alma tried to give Arya a stern look, feeling sorry for Sansa when the girl was so obviously trying to act like a proper lady in front of the prince, but gave in to the giggles threatening to burst out of her mouth. Lady Catelyn shot Robb a look, and he got up to go over to Arya's side of the table to shoo her off to bed. With the laughter starting to fade and now being left with Theon sitting across from her, the cup of wine was again shoved in her face.
"Oh," Theon withdrew his hand, "Forgive me, I had thought you were ten and six, not six." He lifted the cup to his own mouth, but Alma swiped it from his hand with a frown. He smirked again, and she stomped on his foot underneath the table before taking a gulp.
"I hate you, Greyjoy," Alma wrinkled her nose at him before taking another swig. The more she drank, the more she thought about the possibility she might have to leave to King's Landing.
If Lord Stark did choose to become King's Hand, her father had told her, he would be leaving to go with him. The more she thought about it, she realized she didn't want to go. But then she'd be separated from her father, and the thought alone hurt her. But if she went to King's Landing, she'd have to leave behind Winterfell. Not only would she be leaving the only place she'd ever known of as home, but she'd be leaving the others.
"I don't want to leave," Alma said morosely, frowning at the swirls of grain in the top of the table. "I don't want to go to King's Landing if Lord Stark decides to become the Hand."
"You'd miss me too much, eh?" Theon asked, a devilish smile on his face.
"I would," Alma hiccuped out. "You may be annoying and completely insufferable, but I would."
That took Theon by surprise. He hadn't thought something like that would come out of her mouth, and had been joking when he'd asked.
"... just like I'd miss Robb and Jon, and Bran and Rickon. I'd even miss Hodor!" She yelled, the wine remaining in her cup sloshing over the edge.
He didn't know why, but that comment had stung a bit. Why should I care if Jory Cassel's bastard lumps me along with everyone else? It wasn't as if he wanted her to miss him, because he was Theon Greyjoy and Theon Greyjoy didn't care what the bastard girl would miss or not - but for a split second, the thought that he would be missed by someone, anyone, had almost felt nice.
"Another cup," Alma was now pushing the cup at him, hand waving around impatiently – but he was already pushing the bench back to stand.
He lost whatever hunger and thirst he may have had left; half because his previous thoughts had bothered him, and half because the fact he was actually troubled about it disconcerted him. Have these years of land really softened me so much? He thought angrily. He could hear Alma calling his name through the din of the hall, but he ignored it and left.
The night air felt cool against his skin once he stepped outside, a refreshing change from all the heat in the hall. All that wine had left a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it back and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been shaved and had his hair combed neatly to the side – even Alma had grudgingly told him he looked nice – but now it was undoubtedly unruly.
With an irritated sigh, he turned around. It was Alma, hair almost as messy as his own, a newly filled cup in her hand.
"I thought I was completely insufferable?" Theon remarked.
"You are," Alma stated, as plainly as if she was telling him the sky was blue. She took another gulp of wine – or tried to, at least, because some ended up spilling on the front of her dress – before he strode up to her and grabbed the cup out of her hand.
"So why have you come to pester me, then?"
Instead of answering, she tried to make another grab for the cup, but he poured it out on the ground. Seeing her pout made him feel a little better, at least. "Did something I say bother you?"
"Of course not." He said nonchalantly. "Why should you care if it did?"
"I simply … I ..." She looked away, eyebrows furrowed. "You're such a stupid."
"Now you sound like Arya," Theon couldn't help but chuckle, but she was still looking at him with that stubborn look in her eye, the one that said she wasn't going to let go of this so easily.
"You're sure I haven't said something-"
"Don't be foolish. What makes you think something you said would bother me?"
"W-well," She stuttered, "I know we do not get on well, but we've known each other so long that I had thought we were almost..."
"Friends? Was that what you were about to say?" Theon snorted, taking another step towards her. "I'll be the Lord of the Iron Islands one day. You're just some silly bastard girl. You aren't anything." He was so close to her that he could smell the wine on her breath and see tears begin to shine wetly in her eyes from his words. He took joy from that, too – until there was a stinging sensation on his cheek.
"Why are you so terrible?" Alma demanded, the open palm she'd slapped him with closing into a tight fist.
He rubbed his face, a small grin emerging. He enjoyed that even more – he liked feisty women, and bastard or not, she was no exception. Perhaps that was why he always tried to get a rise out of her; he always did have some perverse sort of fascination with riling her up.
"I try to be nice to you, I really do! But you … you make it so difficult, you git-!"
Alma was stopped mid-sentence by the pressure of his mouth on hers. She stumbled back out of surprise, but his hand crept to her back and pulled her to him, ignoring her fists beating on his chest. His lips were strong and insistent, but warm, and in her drunken, wine-induced state, Alma reluctantly started to actually like it – when he pulled away.
His smirk was wider than ever as she gaped at him owlishly, trying to regain her senses. "What did you do that for?" She cried indignantly.
"To stop that pointless drivel coming out of your mouth." He arched an eyebrow. "You don't think I'd want to kiss you for any other reason, do you?"
"Have I told you I hate you?" She spat, promptly turning on her heel and trying to walk away with dignity – which she didn't have much of, because she almost stumbled a few times and could hear his snickers from behind her.
Alma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Stupid, stupid Greyjoy, she cursed, My first kiss, taken by him of all people! She could still remember the way his lips had curved against hers, smiling even then. How dare he?
But no matter how drunk she was, or how much she wished she could slap him again a thousand times over, she still laid awake that night, fingers on her lips.
A/N: Okay, before anyone kills me for having them kiss in only the second chapter, let me just say: Theon, to me, has always seemed like the love 'em and leave 'em type. So Theon is not madly in love, or even crushing, or anything like that - he's just ... Theon. Wow, that sounds like a really bad way to excuse myself, haha.
And as for Alma, she doesn't like him that way either, but things are probably going to change after that, whether she likes it or not. She's a sixteen year old girl, and well, if you've ever been a sixteen year old girl, you probably know all about that.
So I hope you liked it, and I promise the next chapter will be longer.
Please, please review and tell me what you thought? :)
Thanks for reading.