Morning came with men climbing over Winterfell's walls. All around the castle, people were panicking, not knowing who exactly the threat was. Anera's hands shook as she navigated the halls, trying to get to Brandon's room to find out what was happening. She forced her way through frantic people until finally she stepped through the door, closing it behind her as she shook Brandon in his bed. "Wake up, little lord," she urged.

He had just started to open his eyes when the door opened again, and Anera froze at the sight of Theon Greyjoy, a man at his back. "I've taken your castle," Theon stated.

Anera ground her teeth together, lowering her head as she tried to stop the anger building inside her. Brandon blinked a few times, focusing on the lordling stood before him. "Theon?" he asked.

"It's Prince Theon now. Get up. You have to get dressed."

Brandon looked between Anera and Theon, hesitating before he started to sit up. "I've taken Winterfell," Theon said. "I took it. I'm occupying it. I sent men over the walls with grappling claws and ropes."

Brandon's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Why?" he asked.

"To take the castle," Theon said.

"You went with Robb."

"And he sent me back to Pyke. I'm a Greyjoy. I can't fight for Robb and my father both. Where's Hodor?"

Brandon shook his head. "I don't know."

Theon looked to the man beside him. "Find the halfwit," he instructed, and the man hurried from the room.

Theon let out a breath as he started to speak again. "My men are bringing your people together in the courtyard."

"Why?" Brandon asked.

"So you and I can go down and tell them how you've yielded Winterfell to me."

"I won't."

Theon took a step toward the bed, meeting Brandon's gaze. "Yes, you will."

Brandon sat himself up so he was eye level with Theon. "I won't," he said. "I'll never yield. We'll fight you and throw you out."

Theon let out a sigh, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. His air of arrogance had faded for a moment and he spoke simply. "The castle is mine, but these people are still yours. You'll yield to keep them safe, to keep them alive. That's what a good lord would do."

When Brandon didn't answer, Theon continued. "Think carefully about what you want to say."

He stood from the bed, locking eyes with Anera. "Who the Hell let you out of chains?" he asked, but Anera didn't answer, only growled from the back of her throat.

He turned to leave, stopping when Brandon said, "Theon. Did you hate us the whole time?"

Theon had no reply to that. He simply turned and left. Anera released a weak breath, turing to face Brandon. "Let's get you dressed, little lord," she said.

When he was ready, they joined the crowd in the yard. Rain poured down on them as Brandon spoke quietly. "I've yielded Winterfell to Theon," he said.

"Louder," Theon stated. "Say Prince Theon."

"I've yielded Winterfell to Prince Theon."

Scattered murmurs washed over the people. Theon took a step forward. "You all know me," he said.

"Aye, we know you for a steaming sack of shit," a man stated.

"Farlen, you be silent," Brandon said.

Theon took a few steps toward Farlen. "Listen to your little lord, Farlen. He has more sense than you do."

"All of you should do as he commands," Brandon urged.

Theon 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. I serve the Starks," Farlen stated. "If you think you can hold the North with this- -"

"Shut up!" one of Theon's men cried, and the hilt of his sword crashed into the back of Farlen's head, sending him to the ground.

Beside Anera, Rickon recoiled, and she took his arm gently. Theon continued as a woman hurried to help Farlen back to his feet. "If you serve me as loyally as you served Ned Stark, I will be as good to you as he ever was. Betray me, and you will wish you hadn't. 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 five hundred men to Winterfell."

Murmurs washed over the people again when Maester Luwin said nothing. Theon glared. "You are a maester of the Citadel, sworn to serve the Lord of Winterfell, are you not?" he asked.

"I am," Maester Luwin said.

"I am the Lord of Winterfell, as Bran just informed you. Send the ravens."

"My lord," Maester Luwin said, and he looked at the ground as he left the yard.

Osha hesitated, stepping forward. "My lord Greyjoy," she said.

He turned to face her with a smirk on his face. "I see you've finally learned how to address your betters, unlike your little friend. What do you want?"

She didn't meet his gaze fully as she spoke. "I was brought here a captive. You were here the day I was taken."

He shrugged. "I'm the one who took you. What of it?"

She lowered before him. "Let me serve you," she said.

"Serve me how?" he asked. "I need fighters, not kitchen sluts."

"It was Robb Stark who put me in the kitchens. Put a spear in my hand again."

"So you can bury it in my neck? Do you take me for a fool? Get up. Step aside."

He shoved her toward Brandon, eyes landing on Anera. "Do you have anything to say?" he asked.

She took a step toward him, locking eyes. A faint smirk played at her lips as she told him, "this little game you're playing won't last long. Just know that."

She avoided the swing of his arm, catching him by the wrist. Greyjoy men started to advance on her, but Theon waved his other hand. "Wait," he instructed, and they backed down.

He looked at Anera, pulling his wrist free harshly. "Get away," he said.

A laugh escaped her. "As you wish, my prince," she spat, before she joined Osha and Brandon.

Theon started speaking again, cut off by the angry shouting of Ser Rodrik. "Greyjoy!"

Everyone looked to see Ser Rodrik being led by two Greyjoy men. They all stepped back as Theon approached him. "We caught this one on his way back from Torrhen's Square," one of the Greyjoy men said. "Took out two of ours before I got his sword."

Maester Luwin returned, joining Osha, Anera, and Brandon. They watched Theon and Ser Rodrik as Theon spoke, "Ser Rodrik, it grieves me that we meet as foes."

"It grieves me you've less honor than a back alley whore," Ser Rodrik replied. "You were raised here, under this roof. These people are your people."

"They are not my people," Theon stated.

"Kind Robb thought of you as a brother."

"My brothers are dead. They died fighting Stark men, men like you."

"Aye, they died fighting a war your father started. Lord Stark raised you among his own sons."

"Among them, but not one of them. I was his hostage taken from my home."

Ser Rodrik shook his head. "If he were alive to see this- -" he began.

"He's not," Theon spat. "He's dead. The Seven Kingdoms are at war. And Winterfell is mine."

"I should have put a sword in your belly instead of in your hand."

Theon let out a sharp breath. "You've served this house faithfully, old man. But keep talking and I'll- -"

He was cut off by Ser Rodrik spitting at him. The knight was pulled away then and forced to the dirt. "Take him to the cells," Theon stated. "Lock him up a- -"

"My prince," one of his men stated, "you cannot let that stand. He must pay."

"I'll lock him in a cell until he rots- -" Theon began, but the man interjected.

"No, he has to pay the iron price. They'll never respect you while he lives."

Theon's green eyes went wide at that. He looked between the man, Ser Rodrik, and Brandon. He nodded stiffly. "Ser Rodrik," he said, "I sentence you to death."

Outrage from the people. Anera felt herself stiffen a great deal, her fingers curling into tight fists. "No!" Brandon cried. "You said no harm would come to them if I yielded."

"The old man couldn't keep his mouth shut," Theon snapped in response.

Maester Luwin hurried to take Theon by the shoulders. "I urge you not to make a hasty decision," he said.

"He disrespected me in front of my men," Theon said. "That was his decision, not mine!"

"He is worth more to you alive than dead," Maester Luwin said. "The Starks will pay. Please, Theon, think what you do."

Theon breathed slowly, not answering for a long moment. "You'll address me as Prince Theon or you'll be next," he stated finally.

"Come," one of Theon's men stated, and the others began to drag Ser Rodrik to the center of the courtyard.

"No!" Brandon shouted.

Rickon joined in the begging, tears streaming down his face. "No!"

"Theon!" Brandon cried, his voice strained by sobs.

Anera took hold of his arm, whispering. "It's all right. It's all right."

But it wasn't, and she knew that for certain. Brandon's cries continued. "Please! Ser Rodrik!"

Theon stopped in front of Ser Rodrik, whose anger never wavered as he said, "he who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Coward."

They forced Ser Rodrik to the ground as Theon took a greatsword from the sheath at his hip. He looked like a small child being given his first sparring sword, his grip awkward on the weapon. "Stop! Stop right now!" Brandon shouted.

"You don't give commands anymore, little lord," Theon replied.

"Please, stop this. Please stop him," Brandon urged Maester Luwin.

Ser Rodrik's eyes fell upon the little lord. "Hush now, child," he said. "I'm off to see your father."

Brandon's cries were not diminished and tears continued to steam down his face. Anera fought the urge to cry at the sight of him. She lowered her head with a weak breath. "Any last words, old man?" Theon demanded.

Ser Rodrik looked up at him. "Gods help you, Theon Greyjoy," he said. "Now you are truly lost."

Theon raised the sword, bringing it down hard. Ser Rodrik let out a gasp as the blade sank into his neck. It did not pass through cleanly. Screams erupted from the crowd. Theon pulled the sword free, swinging again. A burst of blood sprayed up to hit his face, but still, the sword did not pass through Ser Rodrik's neck. He swung again, and certainly the old knight was dead, now, but his head still did not come off. He raised his leg, forcing it down hard at the base of Ser Rodrik's neck. His head toppled as the people screamed horribly. Theon stumbled unsteadily on his feet, turning to look at Brandon. He met Anera's gaze for a moment but she did nothing, only closed her eyes as she felt tears rolling down her cheeks.