XXV
Benjen was wrapped in cotton quilts and furs, tucked tight in his mother's arms and held close to her chest. The early morning air was icy and sharp, and Ella didn't want him catching cold. She herself was wrapped in furs, her heaviest cloak with her shawl beneath, and even still she ached to be within the walls of Winterfell again. Rodrik Cassel came trotting through the castle gates atop his horse, flanked by five or so men. Ella smiled widely, glad to see another familiar face returning home.
Robb had sent a letter a few weeks before that he was sending Rodrik Cassel to Winterfell to keep an eye on them, as well as his assurances that all was well and the Stark army persevered. Rodrik dismounted his horse and approached her.
"Milady," he greeted, bowing his head in the slightest. She smiled.
"It's good to have you home," she said, turning and motioning for them to go inside. "Robb has only told me bits of how things are on the warfront. I'm hoping to hear more details from you."
"I've not ridden all the way up here to share war stories, Milady," he laughed. She smiled, shaking the snowflakes from her shoulders once they'd slipped inside. "So that's the little prince?"
She smiled, rocking Benjen absently. "What do you think, Rodrik – honestly, tell me. How long will the war go on?"
"Well," Rodrik sighed, his merry smile slipping from his face. "It could be several weeks, or several years. It's all a matter of when the Lannisters will back down."
Rickon's rock came down on the nut with a sharp crack, followed by the remains clattering over the tabletop.
"It's not just thieves, Milord," the poor farmer said. Thwack! Ella jumped at the sound of the rock hitting the table again. "It's wolves in the mills, now. More than I ever seen. They come down in the night and they kill my sheep." Thwack! "My three sons is away fighting. For your brother, Milord. They'll fight, and keep fighting, 'til they're told to go home. I've no one to man my flock now, only me." Thwack! "I can't keep watch all day and all night."
Ella turned to look at Bran, who met eyes with Maester Luwin.
"We can send two orphan boys from Winterstown home with you, to help watch over your flock – if you can give them room and board."
"My wife always prayed for more children. We'll look after them. Thank you, Milord. And may the gods bless you and yours."
Thwack!
Ella jumped again, placing her hand over her heart. The next time Rickon brought the rock down again, Bran leaned in close.
"Stop it!" He leaned back in his seat. Ella snatched the rock away from Rickon with her free hand, hissing admonitions at him. "If that's everyone, I'm going to go for a ride before dark."
"Good," Maester Luwin sighed, gathering his things. Bran called for Hodor, and the happy halfwit stood, ready to respond to the call to action, when Rodrik Cassel came charging in.
"Lord Stark! Torrhen's Square is under siege!"
"Torrhen's Square is barely forty leagues from here," the Maester put in. "How can the Lannisters strike so far North?"
"Might be a raiding party led by the Mountain. Might be sellswords paid by Tywin Lannister." Ella felt a shiver crawl up her spine at mention of the Mountain. The Hound was huge and intimidating, and from every story she'd heard, the Mountain was twice as big.
"We have to help them!" Bran insisted.
"Well, most of the fighting men are away with Robb, but I can gather 200 decent men," Rodrik reasoned.
"Do you need so many?" Maester Luwin asked, sounding desperate.
"If we can't protect our own bannermen, why should they protect us?" Bran defended. Ella didn't miss the proud smile on Rodrik's face. "Go, Ser Rodrik. Take the men you need."
"Won't take long, Milord," Rodrik assured. "Southerners don't do well up here."
With that, he turned and left with his men in tow. Ella swallowed, wringing her hands in her lap. She stood, beckoning Rickon to come with her, and gave Maester Luwin a meaningful look before taking Rickon's hand in hers and fleeing the room.
A feeling of great relief washed over Ella as she lowered the letter. Robb had won another battle, at a village in the Westerlands called Oxcross. He'd expressed great joy over having won the battle, told her that it had been an important victory and that he and his army were very pleased. A nagging worry sounded in the back of her mind – she knew that if Robb and his army were pleased, then the Lannisters and their army would be all the more furious, that they'd likely gather up their forces and return stronger. But Robb was confident – after all, he'd won every battle so far.
She set the letter down on her desk, standing and moving over towards the bassinet by her bed. Benjen was awake, lying down contentedly and staring up in awe at the mobile that hung from the top of the bassinet. He was a quiet baby, only crying when hungry or wet, and never colicky. She lifted him into her arms, smiling down at him.
"Hello, sweetheart," she whispered, bouncing him softly. "Your Papa should be home soon. I hope. He'll be so glad to meet you. And you'll be glad to meet him, won't you? Yes, won't you, my lovely boy…"
She descended into coos and giggles at her boy, bringing her face close to his and brushing their noses together. And then she jumped when her door strained at his lock. She looked up in shock, as whoever was on the other side of her door began pounding frantically at the door and a familiar voice began to order her to open the door. Ella felt her heart jump in her chest. Benjen whined in her arms. She put him down gently in his bassinet, moving around the bed. She nearly reached to unlocked the door, but then she thought of the dagger that Robb kept hidden beneath the mattress should she ever need it. She slid it up her sleeve before unlocking the door.
She hardly had time to step away before the door was flung open, and Theon stepped in. She stared in confusion at him. What was he doing here, why wasn't he with Robb – and why did he have a kraken emblazoned on his armor?
"I've taken Winterfell."
"What?"
"Haven't you heard the ruckus?" His face twisted into a nasty sneer. "I've sent my men over the walls to subdue your people."
"I don't understand," she said, backing up further and subtly making sure that she could pull out her dagger should she need it. "You went South with Robb, why are you -"
"Robb sent me to Pyke," Theon explained shortly. "My father demanded I help him. You should know all about blood before honor."
Ah, she saw what was happening now. Perhaps she didn't understand it, but she knew. "You'll never take us."
"Bran will yield."
"He'd never -"
"He will." Theon's tone of finality scared her. "I've already spoken to him. He will yield to keep the people of Winterfell safe. And unless you want to risk all their lives, you'll keep your pretty mouth shut and let him yield." His eyes flickered over to the bassinet by her bed, on the other side of the room. "Get dressed. Be mindful of your mouth. Bring the runt."
She felt personally offended at that. She wanted to slide her dagger from her sleeve and slash him from balls to brain. But she kept it hidden. At that, he turned and left with the two men who flanked him. The door clattered shut with such an air of inevitability that it seemed to echo in the silence. She slid the dagger from her sleeve and returned it to its place beneath the mattress.
She could hear it, now, and wondered how she couldn't feel it before – there were the cries of women and children as they were forced from their homes, the angry shouts of men being subdued. Benjen whined from his bassinet. Her heart swelled up as she gathered him into her arms. Yielding to Theon was the surest way to keep her son safe. But Winterfell was the seat of the North, and Benjen was the heir to the North, and Ella knew that they wouldn't be safe for long.
"I've yielded Winterfell to Theon."
"Louder. Say Prince Theon."
"I've yielded Winterfell to Prince Theon."
Theon stepped forward. "You all know me," he called over the murmurs of the crowds. Whatever he was to say next was cut off by a man in the crowd.
"Aye, we know you for steaming sack of shit."
"Farlen, you be silent," Bran cut in. Theon started towards the man.
"Listen to your little lord, Farlen," he said, with just enough haughtiness that Ella wanted to punch him in the nose with all the strength she could muster. But she remained behind Bran with Benjen in her arms and her shawl drawn over her head. "He has more sense than you do!"
"All of you should do as he commands," Bran continued.
"My father has donned the ancient crown of salt and rock, and declared himself King of the Iron Islands! He claims the North as well by right of conquest. You are all his subjects -"
"Bugger that!" Farlen spoke up again, staring at Theon with disgust. "If you think you can hold the North with this -"
An Ironborn soldier came from behind and hit Farlen over the head. Ella gave a sharp intake of breath, holding her baby closer to her chest. Farlen's daughter went to her knees to help her father.
"If you serve me as loyally as you served Ned Stark, I will be as good to you as he ever was! Betray me," he warned, "and you'll wish you hadn't."
"And the Lady Stark?" another asked, pointing at Ella almost accusingly. Her head snapped up. "What has she to say of this?"
Ella looked from Theon, who stared at her with a warning clear in his eyes, to her baby, sleeping and blissfully unaware of the events around him, to the citizen who pointed at her still.
"We will yield Winterfell to the Ironborn," she agreed, swallowing the lump in her throat and attempting to keep the shake from her voice. Dismayed cries went up all around her, and if ever she felt like more of a failure of a Queen, she didn't know. Theon gave her a smug smile, before turning.
"Maester Luwin! Send a raven to Pyke informing my father of my victory here, and one to Deepwood Motte to my sister. Inform her that she's to bring 500 men to Winterfell." When Maester Luwin made no move to go, Theon turned to face him fully. "You are a Maester of the citadel, sworn to serve the Lord of Winterfell, are you not?"
"I am."
"I am the Lord of Winterfell, as Bran just informed you. Send the ravens."
The Maester looked in the eye, before nodding his head just slightly. "My Lord."
Ella was startled when Osha spoke up, and moved to address Theon. She felt the fire of fury and betrayal burn in her chest when the wild woman offered her services to the traitor.
"Get up," Theon spat, and pushed her roughly away. "Step aside!"
"Why?" Bran asked softly when she came near enough to hear.
"It's your dream, little lord," she responded lowly. "The ocean has come to swallow this place. I ain't lettin' it drown me."
Oh – Ella wanted to be so mad, deep in her heart of hearts she knew she should, but the first thing she could think was that perhaps now – for she had no idea what would come after this day – she might have to do unthinkable things to keep herself and her family safe. Even offering herself to Theon.
"Greyjoy!" a great roar came up from the gates, and Ella felt her heart drop when she saw Rodrik being led by two Ironborn into the courtyard. Theon approached him.
"We caught this one on his way back from Torrhen's Square," one of the brutes spat. "He took out two of ours before we got his sword."
"Ser Rodrik," Theon said, "it grieves me that we meet as foes."
"It grieves me that you've less honor than a back alley whore!" Rodrik barked. "You were raised here, under this roof! These people are your people -"
"They are not my people," Theon said sharply.
"King Robb thought of you as a brother!"
"My brothers are dead. They died fighting Stark men – men like you!"
The conversation continued in lower tones, ones Ella couldn't hear. She felt sick to her stomach, holding Benjen close to her heart and shuffling nearer to Bran and Maester Luwin.
"You've served this house faithfully, old man," Theon began in a warning tone. "But keep talking, and I'll -"
He went silent when Rodrik spit in his face. The Ironborn hit Rodrik over the head and wrestled him to the ground as Theon recoiled.
"Take him to the cells! Lock him up -"
"My Prince!" an Ironborn called, one of the men who was flanking Theon earlier when he'd come to see her. He spoke to Theon in low tones, apparently trying to convince him of something. Ella felt her heart beating wildly in the silence of the courtyard.
The silence seemed to last a million years, and then Theon's voice came crashing down. "Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death!"
"No!" Bran cried. Maester Luwin immediately moved away from them and began to approach Theon. Ella felt as if her heart had disappeared from her chest, her arms and legs set trembling. "You said no harm would come to them if I yielded!"
"The old man wouldn't keep his mouth shut," Theon defended harshly. Luwin had reached him, now, and was trying to make him see reason – but there was no changing Theon's mind. It had been made. Rickon turned to her, tugging at her gown and staring up at her with fear in his eyes. She pulled him close to her side, attempting to sooth him as best she could. But, in truth, she could only bring him so much comfort when she herself was so scared she could hardly speak.
"Theon, see reason!" she called, voice thick with pain, but it went unheard.
The Ironborn brutes began to force Rickon to the center of the courtyard. Rickon cried out but Osha pulled him back, keeping him firm between her and Ella. Bran was begging, pleading with Theon with despair in his voice. Luwin returned to them, pulling Rickon close to his side.
"Theon, you gave your word!" Ella cried, reaching for Bran and urging him to close his eyes. "Bran, please -"
"Stop! Stop right now!" She squeezed his hand tighter but it only seemed to fuel his desperation, as he called out fervently for Theon to stay his blade, to stop the madness.
"You don't give commands anymore, little lord," Theon called, looking up briefly to meet their eyes as his sword hung inches above Rodrik's neck.
"Hush now, child." Rodrik's voice cut through Bran's pleas and effectively silenced him. Even on his knees with a sword at his neck, the old soldier's voice was calm and resolute, and without a trace of fear. "I'm off to see your father."
"Bran, look away," Ella pleaded, tugging on his hand.
"You said no harm would come!" Bran's voice broke. "You said no harm would come! Theon, please! Theon, please don't!"
"Do something," she heard Rickon whine, his face buried in the Maester's side. Ella's cheeks were wet. She tugged on Bran's hand again.
"Look away," she begged. "Bran – please."
"I'll do anything, please – no please stop it - !" But Bran's cry came even as Theon lowered his sword upon Rodrik's neck. If Ella had wanted to close her eyes, she couldn't now, and even if she could, the image of Theon's sword slicing through Rodrik's neck was forever in her mind. And then there was Bran's cry of anguish, like Theon's sword had pierced him as well. Ella felt a terrible scream leave her throat, felt herself pull Benjen and Bran closer, trying to step back and disappear in the crowd behind them.
There was the vile crunch of bone – but that was not enough. She watched as Theon hacked at Rodrik's corpse, sick with anger and desperate to remove head from neck. Blood spattered, mixed with the rain and the mud on the ground. And then Theon lifted himself on one foot and kicked Rodrik's head from his body.
And then after, there was only the sound of rain and muffled sobs. Benjen was squirming and whining in her arms. She held him tighter against her chest, pulled her shawl closer to him to keep him dry, even as the rain soaked her to the bone. She took a shaky step forward and wrapped her free arm around Bran, pulling him close and burying her face in his shoulder as he hid his face in hers. She wondered how everything had gone wrong - how she, the Queen, had become a prisoner in her own castle.
Hello friends! Just as a note before I get to the important stuff, this is an un-beta'd version of the chapter. My beta doesn't seem to have been online lately, so I decided to put up the chapter anyways in her absence. Hopefully she's alright!
Huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed and fave'd and added this story to their alerts! You all mean so much to me and your support keeps me writing!
So my new goal is to try and finish this story before the end of the year! I'm estimating something around 42 chapters, so I'm about halfway there. Now, of course, this is just something that I want to do, so I don't make any promises on whether or not chapters will be quicker.
Again, huge thanks to all of my wonderful lovely readers and reviewers. Seriously, your reviews are what continue to bring me back to this.
So much love!
Until next time,
Rex