"His own man killed him?" Queen Roslin is puzzled.
"A turncloak killed by another turncloak seems a fair justice, my queen," Ser Rodrik replies to her. "Theon killed a man at the Hunter's Gate to let these men in, then they made their way to the Battlements gate between the walls to bypass the kennels. Strangers would have set all the dogs to barking and raised the alarm sooner. Theon knows the castle well: he knew the best way in…and he might have succeeded in causing more deaths and damage without our She-Wolves of Winterfell," he nods admiringly at Arya and Sansa.
"But why?" Lady Catelyn asks now, shaking her head. "I cannot imagine what Theon thought he could possibly accomplish: do you?" she turns to Sansa.
"I- I'm not certain, Mother," Sansa says shakily, "Th-theon said he wanted to take me to Pyke but…but the other one said that-" She stops now and furrows her brow in strained disbelief
"He said what, Sansa?" Arya prompts her.
"Your sister has doubtless had quite a shock, Arya; let her tell it in her own time and in her own way," Maester Luwin advises her quietly and then puts a hand on Sansa's shoulder. "Would you like them you being you some wine, my lady?"
Sansa tries to force a tremulous smile; she can never remember the maester of Winterfell addressing her other than by her first name and she is grateful for his calm courtesy this night.
"I- thank you; but no," she takes a deep breath. "The other man said that he wanted me f-for himself, and that he…he was going to hunt me like a wolf…for sport," she finishes and cannot bring herself to look at anyone.
"Gods be good, my lady," Ser Rodrik exclaims, "by his words he must be Bolton's bastard, Ramsay Snow. Only he is known for such horrible acts."
"I thought you had killed him," Arya counters.
"No, milady; it was his servant: they called him Reek. The bastard had dressed him in his garb so that I thought I was him but…well, the stench was proof enough that he wasn't but also Lady Hornwood's people who saw the body said that he was not Ramsay Snow. No one had seen him for years now…at least none that lived or would admit to it."
"Has Roose Bolton been protecting him all this time, do you think?" Catelyn questions.
"I should think that is unlikely, milady, now that he has legitimate heirs with his Frey wife. They say the bastard killed his own half-brother and the lord's heir, Domeric; gods only know what he would have done to his father's small children…"
"And to Sansa," she finishes angrily, and Queen Roslin and the nurses gasp.
They have all gathered in the solar after the soldiers had determined that all of Theon's men had surrendered or had been killed. There had been no more than twenty; and while some had worn the badge of House Bolton beneath their cloaks, most had no sigil and so were believed to be sellswords of dubious character and origins. They are mostly women in the room now and they are dressed in robes and with braided hair, save for Arya. Bran is with them, with Hodor and Maester Luwin; and Hallis Mollen and Ser Rodrik Cassel. The fire has been built up and tea has been brought but no one drinks save for Berena.
"Theon said all that he wanted was you?" Arya questions Sansa.
"Yes, Arya," Sansa replies impatiently, "I have said so already." Sansa feels her head is bursting; she still feels nauseous, and she is terribly embarrassed. "I am sorry," she finally says tearfully, "I am sorry if I was the cause of all this but-"
"Sansa," Roslin says quickly and hurries to kneel before her and take her hands in hers, "no one blames you for what happened; please do not blame yourself. The fault was Theon's entirely. Robb had told me that he offered to marry you even though-" She stops speaking suddenly.
Sansa sniffles and dabs under her eyes and then says: "My lord believed that Theon started the terrible rumours about me, so that Robb would have no choice but to wed me to him and give him lands and a castle here in the North; and Theon said if he took me as a salt wife that Robb would somehow legitimize our…our union to save House Stark's reputation and mine."
"Nonsense!" Maester Luwin declares loudly. "Did he truly think King Robb would set aside your marriage to Lord Umber? Your lord is his most loyal bannerman and the most fearsome warrior in the entire North.. Why, Lord Umber himself would never accept such an insult; nor could he to keep face with his own people."
"He…he meant to take my children with us, and…and hold them hostage; and he claimed that my lord would no longer want me," Sansa tells them haltingly. "He told the man that he and the others could do whatever they wanted with the castle and…and those inside." She does not tell them that Theon said they could have all of the women in the solar with her now.
"Thank the gods Arya came along when she did then," Roslin comments.
Sansa and Arya exchange glances and Ser Rodrik walks to the doorway to ascertain that they are unheard by anyone else.
"Come here, Eddard," Sansa holds out her arms to her son who is sitting in Berena's lap. When he slides down and walks to her, she kisses his forehead reverently. "You were so very brave, my son; I am grateful to you for what you did but I am most grateful that you were not hurt. Was the dagger your father's gift then?"
"Yes, Mother," he replies and clutches his little hands together. "Will bad men come to kill me now?"
"No harm will ever come to you in Winterfell, Lord Eddard," Hallis Mollen assures him, "and no one outside this room will ever know. Your lord father will protect you at Last Hearth."
"We must all keep this secret until we can tell my lord," Sansa appeals to them all.
They all murmur their agreement with her, and even Hodor nods.
"Hodor," he says solemnly to young Eddard.
"Bran?" Sansa questions him gently now. He has been sitting in a corner and not speaking.
"Of course, Sansa," he says absently.
"I was asking if you are well, Bran. Forgive me but you seem very far away right now."
He turns his face to her. "Who will take their heads?" he asks suddenly. "I can pass sentence…but I can't swing a sword. Neither can Queen Roslin. Our way is the old way, remember?"
"We can leave it for Robb to decide," Roslin answers. "The cells will hold them until he returns, won't they?"
"They will, my queen," Ser Rodrik tells her firmly.
"Is that truly what is troubling you, Bran?"
He is silent a long moment and Sansa wonders if she should have questioned him when everyone is still so overwrought. But he drops his eyes now and speaks sadly.
"I dreamt this would happen, but I didn't understand it," he says in frustration. "And Jojen told me that even if I have clear dreams; I can't ever change what will happen. I don't understand why I have this…this ability…when I can't use it to help anyone, not even myself or my family. How is it a gift if I can't use it?"
"How can you be sure this was your dream if you did not understand it, Bran?" Maester Luwin asks somewhat patronizingly.
"The wave that came to Winterfell: the Ironborn are of the sea," he explains. "The water turned to blood in the halls," he looks towards the door where servants can be heard now scrubbing and cleaning the pools and streaks of blood left by the dead and injured. "And the wide open mouth of the screaming man is the flayed man of the Bolton's sigil."
"That man screamed when I stuck my dagger in him," Eddard tells him.
"Did your father teach you, Eddard?" Sansa asks him warmly, for she cannot help but think that it was partly her husband who saved her by teaching their son. But she is also upset that her small boy should have taken such a risk with his own life.
"Yes," he tells her, "Father, and Smalljon…and Aunt Arya. Father told me where and how to stick the dagger, and Smalljon made me practice and Aunt Arya taught me to be quick and silent."
"Your father'd be right proud of you, m'lord Eddard ," Hallis Mollen tells the boy, "And your lord grandfather as well. He was a brave man, Lord Eddard Stark," he nods firmly.
"My lord husband would never have given a child a dagger, much less taught how him to use it," Catelyn says tightly. "Gods be good, the boy could have been killed."
"Father said it was for the White Walkers, my lady," Eddard tells her contritely, "But I heard Mother scream, and so I had to help her."
"Valyrian steel, my lady," Hallis Mollen tells Catelyn now, nodding to the dagger at Berena's feet. "No wonder the boy could wield it so easily: nothing cuts like Valyrian steel."
"Well the last time there was a Valyrian Steel dagger in this castle, someone tried to kill Bran with it-"
"Mother," Sansa cuts her off sharply. "My son is upset enough; so I will thank you not to question his father's judgement or his actions. I was and still am frightened for him that he should have needed to do such a thing, but let us put the blame where it rightly belongs…and not on my lord husband."
The solar is completely silent, and Catelyn stares down at her daughter for some time before replying.
"Forgive me," she says though her countenance is brittle. "You did well to protect your mother, Eddard; I only worried that you might have been hurt."
"I should take him to wash up proper, milady," Berena offers now. "Maybe he'd like to sleep with company in the nursery tonight."
"If they will bring pallets, I would like you and the children to sleep in my room tonight, Berena."
"Very well, milady. Come along young Eddard," she tells her charge, "let's get you clean again."
As they leave, Roslin turns to Sansa. "I think I'd like to do the same with my daughters tonight, Sansa; I don't want them out of my sight."
"Nor I," Sansa admits, "though I am concerned now that Eddard should suffer nightmares. He is too proud, even for a boy, to sleep in the nursery with only girls for company."
"He is Lord Umber's son through and through, milady," Ser Rodrik affirms with a nod and a smile to her.
Sansa smiles back softly. "Yes, he is…I only pray that my lord should come through his battles unhurt."
"We can all pray for his safety and that of King Robb and all Northmen in the godswood tomorrow; but right now, I think it best we all get some sleep," Catelyn advises.
"I fear I shall not sleep restfully this night, and for many nights to come," Sansa laments tiredly, "and you, Arya?" She looks to her sister now but Arya is not listening.
"Arya?' her mother intones.
"What?" she replies sharply.
"Your sister asked if you would sleep well tonight," Catelyn tells her, "and by your tone, I would suggest you get plenty of sleep before you speak again."
"You are welcome to share my bed again, Arya," Sansa tells her now to be conciliatory, "if you do not mind Berena and the children present."
"I can sleep just fine, and on my own too. Valar Morghulis: all men must die. They deserved to die for attacking Winterfell, and the Starks. Killing them will not keep me awake, nor weigh on my conscience. And Eddard needs not feel remorseful either-"
"But he is just a boy, Arya," Sansa tries to mollify her.
"So? We were young when we learned. Just because he is a child does not mean he is safe. He needs learn that as well, and now he has," she says decisively and almost belligerently. She begins to stride from the solar in a barely-contained huff and has the final word over her shoulder at all of them.
"The world isn't safe for children. No one is ever safe."