Chapter 16

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***

A small breeze wafted through the moor, making Katelyn's long hair flutter at its touch. Even though it was summer in Westeros, the weather was quite cool in the North.

When her sweet son woke up briefly, Catelyn's former despair lifted her spirits - her son was alive! Crippled, permanently in a coma, but Katelyn was glad just for the fact that her Brandon had survived the fall.

She hugged his sleeping body and cried, but they weren't tears of grief or sorrow. They were tears of joy, the joy of realising that the worst was over and the horrible torture of waiting was gone, as if it had lifted a weight off her soul....

It was at that moment that her eldest son entered Brandon's bedchamber. She didn't recognise Robb; instead of a cheerful and smiling young man, she saw a grim and tired man. He looked at her with a kind of determination and told her what had caused his gloom.

She couldn't believe that her son wanted to be killed - much less Prince Joffrey himself! What had the prince interfered with her seven-year-old son? The desperate thoughts that had recently disappeared after Brandon's brief awakening reappeared in Lady Stark's mind. What to do?

She slept for three days and four nights, and when her thoughts were crystal clear, she decided to have a word with her eldest son and her trusted men.

She gathered them together in the godswood. Standing beside her was Robb, whom Catelyn remembered as a small boy playing childish games. But the boy was gone, and in his place now stood a manly young man with unshaven stubble and the dark blue eyes that characterised the Tullys. Standing next to Robb was his friend, Theon Greyjoy.

Tall, he was a couple of centimetres taller than her son. He wasn't broad-shouldered like Robb, but he was a wiry young man who could easily defeat the heir to Winterfell in a duel.

Her husband had once told her that Theon had been on sea voyages since he was a boy and had shed blood at a tender age. Paying with iron was what the iron men called it, taking another man's wealth by force. Though Catelyn kept her distance from Greyjoy and thought him a bad influence on her son, she allowed him to participate in the inner council. She was grateful to him for preventing Brandon's death and hers at the hands of an assassin.

And the last people to come to the boghorn at Lady Stark's request were Rodrik Cassel, Master of Arms at Winterfell and Maester Luwin.

Tall and bulky, Ser Rodrik was no longer of age and had many wars behind him. The northern knight may even have fought in the War of the Nine Kings, but Catelyn never knew for sure about that moment in Cassel's life. He was a man loyal to House Stark, and that was all there was to know for the Tullys.

Maester Luwin, on the other hand, was something of a living embodiment of the House Stark crest - short in stature, grey eyes, and grey remnants of hair on his head. A man from whom Catelyn could always seek wise counsel.

- I've gathered you here. - Lady Stark began - to discuss in private what happened a week ago.

- There's nothing to say, Mother. We must send word to Father immediately to warn him of the attempted assassination of Bran. - Robb spoke passionately. - Prince Joffrey must answer!

- It would be very hard to hold the heir to the Seven Kingdoms accountable, Robb,' Theon said. - Even if we can persuade the king, which is unlikely, the prince will be backed by the queen, and the West with her. There could be war, Robb.

Robb looked at Greyjoy with a kind of resentment, but Catelyn looked at him gratefully. Her eldest son was still young and hot-tempered, and didn't understand some obvious things.

- And I find it odd that the prince would introduce himself so openly to a murderer. - Theon continued. - Are they trying to show us a false target in the form of the prince?

Robb hesitated, and Ser Rodrik frowned. He was not stupid, but he was an ingenuous man. Intrigue and deceit were not his favourite things.

-Even if he did. - Katelyn said. - It doesn't change the fact that someone tried to kill my son twice. First they pushed him off the tower and now they're sending an assassin.

- With a weapon that a mere assassin could never get his hands on. - Rodrik added, pulling a dagger from its small sheath. - Valyrian steel with a hilt of dragon bone.

The dagger passed first into Maester Luwin's hands, who examined it silently, and then into Catelyn's hands.

She was uncomfortable touching the weapon they wanted to kill her son with. She gave it a quick glance, and handed it back to Ser Rodrik.

- I'm sure the Lannisters are behind Prince Joffrey. - Catelyn declared. - Someone may have put the prince up to it or sent an assassin on his behalf.

She still remembered that letter from Lysa. She had been frightened, it was obvious by her actions - fleeing King's Landing with her son after her husband's death and locking herself away in the Vale. Would her sister do that for nothing? She was sure Jon Arryn had been killed by the Lannisters, and Catelyn saw the point.

'Well why are the Gods so cruel to me? Why did my sweet Bran fall and not a bastard?'

These thoughts were horrible, but Catelyn couldn't help herself.....

- We must send word to Father, Mother. - Robb said firmly.

-I don't trust ravens with such information. - She looked at Maester Luwin and Rodrik. - I will go to King's Landing myself to warn Ned. I will go alone.

- The roads of the Seven Kingdoms are dangerous. - Greyjoy has his say. - Wouldn't it be better to take a party of Guards with you?

- I'll go across the sea, hiring a ship in White Harbour. - she explained. - No one in the North would dare touch the High Lord's wife. And a large party would attract too much attention.

-And yet, My Lady, Lord Theon is right. - said Ser Rodrik. - Let me come with you, then.

The Maester nodded in agreement. Catelyn had no choice but to agree.

- Mama, what about Bran? - her son asked worriedly. - You wouldn't leave him alone, would you?

-I've been praying to the Seven for over a month, asking them to save him. Now his life is in their hands.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

Theon trudged tiredly into his bedchamber. After unlacing and pulling off his laced boots, Theon strode across the bearskin rug to the carved chest. Upon opening it, a large bundle of collected arrows made from broken branches of chardwood immediately caught his eye.

A couple of small pouches stuffed with coins, mostly silver stags with a couple of gold dragons.

Every moon, Lord Stark allocated his ward a certain amount of money for his needs. But Theon, frugal as he was, didn't spend a lot of money, and over time he had built up a small rainy day fund.

Rarely he went to brothels to satisfy his lust, and even more rarely he bought things for himself - clothes, small household items. He ate with the Stark family, so he didn't feel the need to buy food.

He unsheathed his sword from his belt and placed it next to the chest.

Setting aside a couple of shirts and spare leather trousers, at the very bottom lay several unfinished wooden figures. Picking up one of them, Theon struggled to remember which figure he wanted to portray.

'It's a space trooper from Warhammer!' - Theon slapped himself on the forehead. - 'I'm starting to forget what they look like. Granted I haven't carved anything in the last few months.'

Tossing the figurine back to the bottom of the large chest, he realised with some regret that he wouldn't be able to finish it anytime soon. His figure-carving skills were quite high - Theon tried to make several figures almost every day. At first he didn't succeed, but as time went on, his skills only grew.

He gave most of his figurines to Lord Stark's youngest children, Arya, Brandon, and even little Rickon. The Winterfell lord's second daughter always liked dragons and impressive warriors, like the Chaos Warriors of fantasy warhammer or the Vikings of his past world. Brandon loved armoured knights or paladins, dreaming of the glory of being a royal guard.

Rickon was still young, and so he used the figures as amusing toys, not really understanding what they were.

Even Sansa Stark asked him to make a couple of figures of a lady with her beloved knight, blushing desperately. Theon agreed and honoured the request, for which he received grateful words and a humble kiss on the cheek.

'Perhaps with this figure-carving ability, I can make a good living somewhere in the Free Cities.'

He bought the material for carving from a local carpenter, mostly blocks of wood of various species. He could buy a whole bunch of them for a pittance of half a penny, so there was no shortage. And in a few years he was able to make over a hundred different figures.

Once he carved figures for kaiwasa, the rules of which he learnt from Maester Luwin. He styled the figures to look like the soldiers of the various houses of Westeros, be they Starks, Baratheons, or Lannisters. It wasn't uncommon for him to play 'Westerosi' kaiwasa with Lord Stark, or to play with his sons. But lately Robb has been too busy with business at Winterfell, and the bastard has gone to the Wall. Lord Stark is now in King's Landing, practically ruling the realm as King Robert's Hand.

And Theon himself has not been idle - Robb has decided to give him something to do. Ser Rodrik had left with his mother already a month ago, leaving the post of Master at Arms vacant. He'd decided to temporarily put Theon in the vacant post, confident that he could handle it. Theon was an excellent swordsman, stronger than Robb and Jon combined. He constantly sparred with many of the House Stark guards and no one could compete with him. In fact, Greyjoy was the strongest swordsman in the entire castle.

There was no problem with the guardsmen - Theon was no weaker than them, which was important, and he knew many of them. Sometimes he even had a drink with some of them. They had accepted him as Ser Rodrik's temporary replacement.

He trained them half the day, making them do exercises that were strange to them and even organised long marches around Winterfell in full uniform. Greyjoy had his own ideas about training. And he didn't hesitate to apply them to the Guardsmen without fear of displeasure.

There was some... but the soldiers recognised his authority and didn't grumble much. Robb had once asked him why he did it and what the jogging and strange exercises were for. Theon answered honestly:

-It's made me a great fighter. - Lord Stark's ward said without arrogance. - And I want to make them great fighters by improving their skills and strengthening their bodies.

Robb accepted that, but sometimes looked questioningly at the Guardsmen in training. Theon did not forget to work on the men's ability to stay in formation. He wasn't trying anything new here; it had all been worked out before him.

He looked at the rest of the junk he couldn't get round to throwing away. Slamming the lid of the chest shut, Theon lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He was tired, because five hours with a bunch of soldiers was a challenge.

He fell asleep and had a strange dream where he was a parrot. He flew over a huge castle, looked at people and ate grain, receiving it from kind cooks. He could consciously control the parrot in the dream, but only for a certain amount of time. With each new dream the control got better and better.

That's how he slept until the next day, watching through his pet's eyes.....

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

- My lord. - Maester Luwin addressed Robb. - We have visitors from the north. Tyrion Lannister and his escort. He also has one of the brothers of the Night's Watch with him. The recruiter.

-Lannister? - Stark asked irritably. - You'd better send him away.

-Milord...' Luwin said, confused. - Tyrion Lannister is the Queen's brother and the High Lord's son, we can't just send him away for no reason.

Robb snorted irritably, but Theon only shook his head and made a move on the Westeroski kaiwasa board. At the moment they were playing this game that came from the east, from the continent of Essos, but Luwin interrupted them.

-I don't think we should send Lord Tyrion away without a good reason. - Greyjoy said with a hint. - Just give him shelter in the castle and he'll be gone in a few days. Especially since the Lannisters' guilt hasn't been proven yet.

Robb frowned, unwilling to accept his friend's words. But he was pressed by the Maester.

-Lord Theon is right, my lord. - Luwin nodded to Theon. - If we rudely cast Lord Tyrion out, would it not be a loss to the honour of House Stark?

-Good. - Robb finally announced his decision. - I'll give Lannister shelter, but I'd like to see less of the dwarf.

-I'll ask the steward to put him as far away as possible. - The Maester bowed briefly. - But we have an important guest to receive. The heir to Casterly Cliff is not a level that can be ignored.

Stark looked at the game board and then at Theon. He shrugged and replied:

-Let's go meet the dwarf. Just try not to be rude to him, or he'll take offence.

-I'll try. - Robb shook his head irritably. They left the table with the unfinished game of kaiwasa and went to the Winterfell Wardens.

In the Great Wormhole was Brandon, held in his arms by Hodor, the local fool who could only pronounce one word: his name. Though he was only called that because he says 'Hodor' all the time. Recently the boy woke up, but he doesn't remember what happened to him. How lucky those who may have thrown him from the ruined tower.....

Robb was followed by his direwolf, already grown into a large beast. He was only slightly short of the size of a small pony. But Greyjoy thought the direwolf was still growing.

-Lord Tyrion. - Tyrion nodded courteously in greeting to the dwarf and the sentinel, the temporary master of Winterfell, seated on the throne that had once belonged to the Winter Kings. - It is good to see you in good health after your journey to the Wall. - His words were polite, but they reeked of coldness.

And Lannister saw it, frowning.

- Don't bother, boy. I can see you're not happy with me, though I can't understand why.

- I'm not your boy,' Robb said angrily.

- Then be more sincere and polite. Like your father, for instance. - He looked round and saw Hodor holding Bran in his arms. He took a few steps closer to them and spoke sympathetically.

- Young Lord Brandon. You remember what happened, don't you?

-The boy remembers nothing. - replied the Maester standing next to Brandon.

- And he can't walk, I take it? - He asked the obvious question, looking at Robb. - Then I have a gift for you. - He pulled out a parchment wrapped in a tube and gave it to the Maester. Llewyn opened the parchment and began to read the notes and examine the blueprints.

-What is this? - Greyjoy asked, looking curiously at the large piece of parchment in the Maester's hands.

-These are blueprints. - Lannister shrugged. - They show the design of a special saddle that will allow Lord Brandon to ride his horse safely. Beautiful, isn't it? It's much better than just being a cripple, isn't it? - Tyrion smiled.

-I'm not a cripple. - Brandon, who was being held in Hodor's arms, grumbled resentfully.

-Then I'm not a dwarf either! - laughed Tywin's son. - I think my father will be pleased to hear that!

- These blueprints will indeed help Lord Brandon get on his horse. - Luwin replied affirmatively to Robb's questioning look. - But we need to look at them more closely.

-I'm sure you can do that, Maester. - Tyrion flattered him.

- Lord Tyrion. - Stark began in a friendlier tone. - You are welcome at Winterfell. As is a brother of the Night's Watch. - Robb nodded to Yoren, standing next to Tyrion.

The Lannister clearly wanted to say something ironic, but quickly changed his mind and gave a sour smile in response. But after a few seconds he said:

-Then, will you accommodate my men? They're hungry and tired after travelling the King's Path. I think I'll visit Winterfell's library. There's an interesting book I haven't finished reading. - Tyrion glared at Greyjoy and left Winterfell's Hallows.