Wards, Bastards, and Other Creatures.

Summary: Catelyn is at Winterfell when the Ironborn attack. Will the people from Winterfell be able to come up with a plan to save themselves? Or will they need help from reinforcements sent by Robb, who is still fighting a war in the South? Maybe a certain bastard from Bolton can come to the aid of Winterfell …

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This is actually a re-write of another story of mine, "The Ward that turned". If you have not read that story, DON'T!

It's horrible! The plot is lame and the story line is very simple. I have written it again, adding more details to the plot, making it more intricate and adding more depth to the characters.

It was one of my first stories, when I was just starting to write and still didn't know much about the world of Asoiaf and how it worked. In the original story, when Theon attacks Winterfell, Catelyn is there and with the help of Maester Luwin they come up with a (very simple and cliche) plan to beat Theon. And some very blatant deus ex machina moment when the Blackfish shows up and saves the day …

I truly hope this one turns out much better :)

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1. Theon turn-cloak. (Catelyn)

At least there had been no physical damage to the castle and casualties had been almost minimal. As they stood in the courtyard, Catelyn had no choice but to hand Winterfell over to Theon.

"How dare you?" she cried. "You lived with us, we gave you food, shelter, a home. My son trusted you, and is this how you repay him? By betraying him?"

"Food and shelter, the Lady says" shouted Theon to the people gathered in the courtyard. "I was a prisoner. Your husband took me from my home and my family and brought me here. You never gave me a home. You ignored me Lady Stark, just like you did that bastard Jon Snow. But I wasn't a bastard, I was highborn. Now, the castle is mine!"

"Theon, please, don't", Catelyn begged.

"Theon, please, don't" he mocked and then he turned to his men "Take the Lady Catelyn to her chambers and lock her there. Lock the two boys in their rooms, as well. Everybody else go back your chores. You'll be working for me now"

Lady Catelyn Stark lay awake in bed trying to process everything that had happened in the past few months. She had returned from the Eyrie after that fiasco with her sister and Tyrion Lannister. How her sister had changed still baffled her. Gone was the giddy little girl she used to turn to as a child, her confidant both in times of joy and sadness. Now, a bitter and sour arrogant old woman stood in her place. Lysa was younger than Catelyn by a few years, but life and disappointment had aged her beyond her years. A widow and a distressed mother, she was not able to think properly. But I'm a widow, too, and a distressed mother as well. Will I turn just like her? At least I don't breastfeed my children past their infancy, she chuckled to herself. That image of her sickly nephew's pouty lips latching on to her sister's sagging breast had upset her in more ways than she could count. How could it have gone so bad at the Eyre?, she wondered. Following up on her sister's suspicions that the Lannisters had been behind Jon Arryn's death and her discoveries at Winterfell that pointed at the Lannisters also being behind her son's fall and subsequent attack – where she herself had almost been killed, too – she had set off to King's Landing to warn her husband of the dangers he was stepping into. There she had met with Petyr Baelish, a life-long friend who had told her, beyond the shadow of a doubt that the blade belonged to Tyrion Lannister. It was actually by chance that she had met with the Imp at the Inn. Truth be told, she had actually tried to hide, but it was Lord Lannister himself that called her out. How could she explain her absence at Winterfell and her presence at the Inn? She felt she had no choice but to arrest him. Would I had been less honorable and avenged my family right then and there! But she was not the killing kind. A trial was what the Imp deserved: she had evidence and the statement of a reliable witness, her beloved Petyr. Plus, she knew she could count on her sister backing her, since she also suspected the Lannisters were behind her husband's death. Yet, the situation at the Eyrie could not have gone more differently than what she had expected. First of all, her sister had … changed – she tried to look for a better word but could not find one. The Imp had warned her about Lysa, too, but she did not want to believe him. Then, that brat of a nephew kept on rambling about "making the bad man fly". No fair trial can be guaranteed in those circumstances. And to top it all off, the Imp had won the trial by combat fair and square. If the Gods had decreed him to be innocent, who was she to judge him guilty?

Dejectedly she had to let Tyrion Lannister go and decided to join her son Robb. Apparently things had escalated while she was in her little adventure in the East. King Robert had died and his son Joffrey had been crowned King. Ned had been arrested for treason in King's Landing and Joffrey had summoned Robb to swear fealty. Robb did go south, but not to swear fealty. He had called the banners and was marching to King's Landing to free his father. She felt both apprehension and pride when she saw him again. Her first born had become a man: weather-torn clothes, a stubble that adorned his once chubby baby face, and newly acquired scars she had never seen before. Even the way he walked and talked indicated how much he had grown in these few moons. Yet, as good as it felt to see him again, she knew she could not stay. So she met with Robb briefly in his camp and then she had returned home to Winterfell. She had been so happy to be back. She had not seen her two youngest sons in months. Rickon had grown so much, and Bran was awake. He was a cripple, yes, but he was alive and awake. She was back at what she knew best: she was a mother and the Lady of the House. Robb would be back soon with Ned and the girls. She knew that. She was certain. She had to believe that.

But then word had come from the south, Ned had been executed. Words could not even begin to describe the hole she felt within her chest. Her love, her foundation, her rock was gone and was never coming back. Her family had always been her pride and joy, her most treasured possession and her most cherished achievement in life. Yet, it was slowly falling apart. Her husband was gone and her oldest son was in the middle of a war. A war she may have started herself when she arrested the Imp, she thought with a pang of guilt. Robb had been crowned King in the North by his bannermen: a courageous lot of men and women, loyal to a fault, who had loved and respected Ned Stark and were now seeking revenge for what had been done to their Liege Lord. They seemed to hold Robb in great regard and were now supporting him in this quest for vengeance and independence. She could tell that the boy she had birthed was gone and now a man had taken his place. Unfortunately, she had lost all trace of her two daughters. Sansa was a hostage in King's Landing and Arya had disappeared. So she turned to what she did have: Bran and Rickon and the castle she had called Home for the best part of her life.

She kept frequent communications with Robb. He would tell her about the war and she would advise and counsel him. Apparently, in order to cross the river at the Green Fork he had had to make a deal with Walder Frey. He had agreed to marry one of the old man's granddaughters once he returned with Ned from King's Landing. It had all been for naught: Ned had still died. But a deal was a deal, so being his father's son, he immediately arranged for the wedding to take place after he had avenged his father, defeated the Lannisters and won freedom for the North from the yoke of the capital – those had been Robb's exact words.

The war efforts were apparently going well and yielding good results. Robb kept winning battles and had even managed to capture the Kingslayer. He kept her abreast of his victories and plans, but also of his doubts. They needed a bigger army and allies if they wanted to defeat he Lannisters. He had suggested joining Renly Baratheon in his bid for the crown, but Catelyn had suggested joining Stannis instead. He was in fact the rightful heir and the one Ned would have supported. In the end Robb had mentioned sending Theon to his father to rally the Ironborn. She had never liked Theon, she certainly had never trusted him. But Robb had. Going against her counsel, he had sent Theon to negotiate with his father, Balon Greyjoy.

And that's how they had arrived at this point. Theon had betrayed Robb's trust, amassed his own army and attacked Winterfell. She was a prisoner in her own home.

The knock on the door brought her back to reality.

"Lady Stark", said Theon standing at the door. "I hope you're comfortable".

"What do you want?" she replied coldly.

"So no small talk. All right, then. The castle is mine, with everything in it: the weapons, the food, the drinks, the servants, the women, your children … you".

"Leave the children out of this, Theon. Rickon is but five, and Bran is defenseless"

"It's not the children I want. I want you to marry me"

"Have you lost your wits?" she snorted. "Why would I marry you? It's only a few moons ago that I became a widow. I still mourn my husband. Besides, you're a low life scum, a turncoat who would betray the people who treated you like family".

"You were never family!" he yelled. "And you have no choice. The castle is mine"

"I will never marry you, Theon Greyjoy!" she said as she stood up and started walking towards him. "Now, leave my chambers".

He took a few steps forwards in her direction. She never saw the fist coming until it made contact with her face.

"You will marry me, Lady Stark. I need the loyalty of the men in your house and I can only get it through you. Do not flatter yourself. It's not your bed that I want, it's your power and influence. I'll get Maester Luwin to fix you up. You need to look nice for the wedding. Good bye Lady Greyjoy" he spat as he left.