Chapter 44: Sea, snow and Land
Craster violently pushes Jon inside the hall. He falls heavily on the floor, his face full of blood from the beating the man had inflicted him. "OUT!" The man yells. "ALL OF YOU!"
Lord Commander Mormont is the first to rise from his uncomfortable straw bed.
"The bastard was been messing were he shouldn't!" He gives Jon another hard kick in the stomach with his leather boot. "I want you and your men gone at first daylight." He shows to Jeor the young man's long-sword. "And you will make this right!" He tosses it to him.
Jon arduously goes back on his feet, spitting the blood from his mouth.
"Wait outside." Mormont orders his steward.
"Lord Commander." Jon begs him to listen.
"NOW!" He thunders, looking dagger at him.
The young man reluctantly leaves the place, angrily smashing open the rags set as doors.
The time the Lord Commander gives orders to his men, he goes outside looking for Jon, the long-sword in his hand. He finds him sitting near the horses, Sam busy to take care of the wounds on his face. When Jon sees Mormont marching on him, he pushes Sam away and stands up.
"Leave us!" Lord Commander barks at Sam, who decamps at once. "What did you do?" He asks Jon.
"I was on watch duty, when I saw him walking out of the village. So, I followed him." The young man answers. "He took the baby into the woods, the new born."
"What business is that of yours?"
"You don't understand? He's killing them. He's killing all the boys!" Jon explains. He sees his Lord Commander's face changing. "You already knew that, do you? Why are you letting him do such things?" He slowly says.
"The Wildlings serve crueler Gods than you and I." The old man explains. "Those boys, there are his offerings."
"Offerings?" Jon is outraged. "He's murdering his own children. He is a monster!"
"Ah, well! Many times, that monster's been the difference between life and death for our rangers and your uncle among them. We have other wars to fight out there, boy. Like it or not, we need men like Craster."
"I saw it." Jon pauses. "I saw that thing... Something took that child."
"Whatever it was, I dare say, you'll see it again. Now, ready my horse. We leave at dawn." Mormont gives his long-sword back. "And don't lose it again!" He warns him.
In the gray morning light, the brothers of the Night Watch are preparing to let Craster's Keep behind them. Even if not said out loud, most of them are feeling relieved about it.
.
Bran is finishing his breakfast in the castle kitchens. The preoccupied look over his face didn't escape Ylliria.
"Is there something that is troubling you, Sweetling?" She gently asks him.
He stares at her for a moment, not sure if he wants to share his thoughts. But then, he doesn't have much people to talk to and he trusts her more than anyone else. "I had a strange conversation with Meera and Jojen yesterday. About the dreams I have." He sighs. "Jojen seems to have the same kinds and he says that there are greensights… Like messages from the future."
"And what do you think about it?"
"I don't know. That dream I had when father was put to death. And lately, there are those where I run in the woods like I was a wolf, like I was inside Summer."
She sits next to him, putting a gentle arm around his shoulder. "You know that we all dream. It's something natural. And some of them seems very real as you are really living them. In your case, I would say that because of your injury and that you are unable to do some of the things you liked to do in the past; those dreams are just a reflection of what you desire. Walking and running free."
"Do you have those kinds of dreams too, Ylliria?"
She shivers at the memory of the last two nightmares she had with Lord Tywin and Lord Stark and Robb. "Well, I had one the night after we learned your father's death." She lies. "But, it certainly was a nightmare brought by the sadness I felt. I suppose there must be a link between what we feel and what we dream."
"Jojen told that he had a dream about me before he arrived at Winterfell and that he recognized me when he saw me at the feast. He says that he had another dream where he received a warning that I had to leave Winterfell soon. That I was in danger." Bran slowly sounding afraid.
"My Sweet Prince, I really don't know what to tell to appease your worries. Those are subjects I'm not familiar with. Do you want me to talk with Jojen and ask him to stop frightening you?"
"No!" He harshly answers. "I'm not frightened, I'm just confused."
"Maybe it would be a good thing you talk to Maester Luwin about it. He must certainly know more on the subject. Don't you think?"
"Maybe I will, yes."
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Theon is the first to enter the Grand Hall of Pyke's Castle. He looks around, trying to remember anything from his childhood. But no much time for daydreaming, his father and his sister are already arriving. "The plans are made. It's time you heard them." He briskly says to his son, Yara grinding behind him.
"Father." Theon bows when he passes near him.
"The wolf-pup is gone South." Lord Balon unfolds a map on the table. "With the entirety of the Northern army at his tail. While he is tangling with the Lion in the Westerlands, the North is ripe for the taking. The Iron-born will reave and pillage as it was in the old days, all along the Northern coast. We'll spread out dominion across the green lands, securing the Neck and everything above. Every stronghold will yield to us one by one. Winterfell may defy us for a year, but what of it. The rest should be ours. Forests, fields and homes." He looks at Theon and then turns to his daughter. "Yara, you take thirty long-ships to attack Deepwood Motte."
"Thank you father, I always wanted a Castle." She smirks.
"And what's my role in all this?" Theon angrily asks.
"You take a ship to raid the fisherman's villages on the Stony Shore."
"A ship? You gave her thirty and I get only one?"
"The 'Sea Bitch'. Oh, she'll be perfect for you!" Yara scoffs.
"And to fight fishermen?"
"Be careful of their nets."
Theon makes the round of the table to get closer to Lord Balon. "Father, I fought with Robb Stark, I know his men. He won't give up the North so easily."
"They won't even know we're there until it's too..." Yara.
"What do you know about it, woman?" Theon cuts her. "I am a proven warrior!"
"Your brothers were warriors. Both of them dead, by the hands of those you seem so eager to protect."
"I'm not protecting anyone. I just wonder if it's not wiser to wait. Why risk all against the North if they want to be our allies? Rise up against them and they will destroy us. But, if we pledge fealty to them, they'll give us Casterly Rock."
"What are our words?... Our words, Theon?"
"We do not sow." The young man states.
"We do not sow. We're Iron born. We're not subjects and we're not salves. We do not plow the fields or toil in the mines. We take what is ours. Your time with the wolves has made you weak, my son."
"You're acting like I was volunteered to go! You gave me away, if you remember! The day you bend the knee to Robert Baratheon, after he crushed you. Did you take what was yours then?" Theon's going angry.
Balon gives his son a huge slap in his face, sending him flying against the wall behind him.
"You gave me away!" Theon yells, as his father leave the Hall. "Your own boy!" Balon stops. "Your last boy! You gave me away like I was some dog you didn't want anymore. And now, you curse me because I've come home?" Despite all he is saying, Lord Greyjoy continues his way out.
"You want our father to bow in front of your other family?" Yara faces Theon.
"I have no other family!"
"Don't you?" She heads for the exit too. "Make your choice, Theon and do it quickly. Our ships will sail with or without you!"
At the light of a candle, Theon sitting on the table in his quarters, starts to write a message to Robb, warning him of his Lord father's intentions. He reads it several times, hesitating, thinking where his best advantage lays. With Robb, being a good and loyal friend; and maybe dying in the process with nothing much accomplished. Or with his father, despite the fact that he feels not welcome to this family he didn't remember much from and maybe becoming a King himself one day. "They don't sings songs about King's best friends, unknown dead body among the others on the field." He wonders. "I want to be someone the next ten generation will tell tales about. Glorifying, being imitated but never equaled." He slowly moves the paper near the flame and watches the message burning between his fingers. "I will show them all who Theon Greyjoy really is." He slowly rises from his chair, looking himself in the long mirror of his room and starts to smile.
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