Theon

When Robb hit the dirt of the training yard, blood and gore and what might be a chunk of bone falling from his neck as Prince Joffrey withdrew his sword, Theon had a moment of clarity.

It was painful to watch Robb be slain. Robb had treated him better than any other Stark, or even any of their servants. Robb truly believed that Theon was his friend, and had talked of the great alliance they would have when they were both the lords of their houses. Theon knew that the world did not work this way, not truly, but the sentiment was still frustratingly endearing. Theon had taken Robb along on his less than noble adventures into the Winter Town to show Robb what it meant to enjoy life. Theon had bought him his first ale, shared with him his first whore, and generally engaged in debauchery he would never have imagined doing with his true brothers, cruel as they had been toward him. Jon Snow always did his best to ruin things, but for someone so young Robb Stark was the closest thing Theon had to kin for most of his life.

Even though Theon wanted to jump towards Joffrey and kill him with whatever he could grab on the way, as every other member of Winterfell's household seemed to be attempting to do, he knew that there were much more important things that had to be done. Things that only he could do.

Theon jumped back from the training yard and ran towards the Great Keep, bounding up two or three steps at a time and through the open doors. He skidded across the warm stone floors as he turned through hallways and went up even more steps, stopping only briefly in his bedchamber to grab his personal bow and quiver and sword, and down a final hallway to reach the solar used by Lord Stark as his study.

Lord Stark was mercifully alone, with no sign of the King.

"Theon. What is the meaning of this?" As poorly behaved as Theon had been in his childhood upon first arriving at Winterfell, he had never intruded on Lord Stark in this manner. Surely that explained the look of shock on his face.

"Robb is dead! Murdered by Prince Joffrey, in cold blood!" he panted, trying to catch his breath. "We must secure the keep!"

Lord Stark's face went through emotions Theon recognized as his own not two minutes before – shock, terrible anguish, and finally resignation. At last his face slid into an iciness more terrible than anything Theon had ever seen, before he said "Are you sure, Theon? You do not jest?"

Theon gave a solemn nod, his face squished between seriousness and pain.

"You will go to my personal quarters and fetch Ice. Alert any servants or women you see to lock themselves in their chambers, and any guards or men-at-arms to meet me in the Great Hall. If you see men-at-arms in Baratheon or Lannister livery, avoid them if you can but kill them if you must. Your survival is very important now, Theon. Now go, quickly!"

Theon gave a short nod, already half way out the door. Despite the pain of losing his only true friend, Theon felt more alive than he ever had before. Lord Stark, his captor, trusted Theon immediately and had assigned him to rally the men. This was his opportunity to prove that he was loyal, that he was good enough to be more than just a hostage. Free reign to kill the men who had attacked his captors-turned-adopted family just added to his excitement. The King and his Lannister brood had angered him the moment he saw them. How could this fat, drunken King have destroyed his family so utterly? Truly, it did not matter now – it was finally the time for his revenge.

He snatched Ice from its resting place above the mantle in Lord Stark's rarely used chambers, sheath and all, and slung the monstrous thing across his back before running towards the Great Hall. Lord Stark would have taken the way across the small courtyard which held the sept, as it was the quickest, so Theon went along the east stairs and through the guard posts along the inner wall to allow the two of them to gather as many men as they could.

Theon found Jory Cassel, who dashed to the guardhouse across the north yard to rally the men there, and then he found Alyn and Desmond and Fat Tom and a dozen others all sounding the call to arms around him.

The squad Theon was now leading burst into the Great Hall from a side door to find the men Lord Stark had gathered already engaged with some Westerman knights that had been late breaking their fast. The men behind him had not been told of the exact situation, but they knew enough to defend their liege lord.

Together they made short work of the Westermen, Theon himself striking down the last with a savage blow to the neck from behind, lacking the finesse the prince had used to fell Robb but satisfying in its irony none the less. It was the first man Theon ever killed.

Theon pulled Ice from its sheath and knelt to present it before Lord Stark, who picked it up with two hands before planting the tip on the stone floor by his feet.

Lord Stark, his face still solemn and cold, spoke to them as they listened in absolute silence.

"My son and heir is dead at the hands of the crown prince. We have been betrayed. Our first priority is to protect the great keep. This responsibility I leave to you, Alyn, and twenty other men. Bar all of the entrances and exits except for those people on my direct business. Jory should be organizing the majority of the guards to secure the courtyards and other buildings. Desmond, you will direct all other guards you see to prioritize the rookery and stables. The rest of you will come with me to secure the guest house. Trust no men other than Starks."

The directions were followed instantly and without question. This is what it means to be a true lord, Theon thought. Many of the household guards were old men, veterans of either King Robert's rebellion or his father's rebellion or both, but the instant their lord told them to prepare for battle they transformed into hardened soldiers. And some day men will follow me that way too, their own true lord.

Theon took his place at Lord Stark's side, as a squire should. Although it had never been his official position, Theon was the one responsible for cleaning Lord Stark's armor, maintaining his lower weapons, and tending to his horses after excursions – and Theon took this for the honor that it was. Hostages could be treated far worse, and many Northern lordlings would have gladly taken the position from Theon if Lord Stark found his work unsatisfactory. The more Lord Stark trusted Theon, the sooner he might be allowed to return to his true home and family at Pyke.

Lord Stark led his men out of the great hall, past the sept, and under a portcullis separating the inner yard from the courtyard where the fighting had all started. Most of the shouts seemed to be coming from elsewhere now. Theon grimaced as he jumped over the prone form of Ser Rodrick Cassel, who had been bisected near his middle.

Many of the doors in the guest house were already shut tight. Lord Stark sent four men each to the three entrances to the building, and divided the remaining twenty or so into parties of four to clear each room one by one.

Baratheon and Lannister maids were collected together into one of the larger rooms, clearly confused and terrified. Footmen were isolated in another, after being checked for weapons, and encouraged not to resist. Guards were usually found in small groups. Most knew better than to resist when Lord Stark himself told them that they could either surrender their posts or their lives. It seemed obvious from the cries outside, far more of "Winterfell!" and "For Robb!" than any other, which way the engagement was going. Even royal guards would not fight a hopeless battle.

Of course, encounters with the Kingsguard tended to be more violent. The first occurred outside the large apartments appointed to the royal family for the duration of their visit. Rounding the corner from the landing at the top of the stairs, access to the rest of the floor was blocked off by Ser Boros Blount and three other men-at-arms in Lannister colors. Ser Boros was broad enough to block the doorway on his own.

Lord Stark seemed ready to make some long-winded appeal for the knight to stand down, but did not get to start before Ser Boros let out a roar and charged past his own men to strike at the Warden of the North.

What happened then shocked Theon even more than what had happened to Robb.

Without flinching, Lord Stark stepped back and to his right, away from the overhand swing of the Kingsguard's sword, while swinging Ice up from his left side across his body. Ser Boros continued on a few more steps, although his roar had turned into a more strangled sound. He fell to the ground, with blood spurting out from a gap in his plate that had once been covered in mail. The portly white knight tried to right himself, managing to roll onto his back before Fat Tom stabbed him through the visor with his spear, and Ser Boros Blount moved no more.

Lord Stark's face remained impassive as he shifted his attention to the remaining Lannister men, who gaped in shock. Pressing the advantage, the Winterfell men dispatched them and made their way into the royal apartments. They lost a guard who might have been named Ethan to a glancing spear blow intended for his chest but wound up embedding itself under his gorget instead.

Theon wondered at Lord Stark's display of martial prowess, having only heard stories that seemed too fantastic to be true. A young second-son-turned-lord defeating Ser Arthur Dayne in his prime. Of course, I doubt most Kingsguard are idiotic enough to charge at a man with a greatsword as tall as himself and made of Valyrian steel.

Taking the left door from the solar put them in a short hallway, at the end of which were the Queen's rooms. Jaime Lannister stood smirking in front of that door, fully armored for the first time in the duration of his visit to Winterfell. Theon had to admit, he looked to be the pinnacle of a greenlander knight in his white enamel and golden cape.

"Lord Stark, what brings you up to my sister's apartments at this time of the morning? Surely you know that it is rude to interrupt a Queen while she rests."

Lord Stark, Theon and the half-dozen or so guardsmen still in their party slowly approached the Kingslayer, coming to a stop suddenly when he flinched forward with his sword drawn. Both sides remained still, and Theon felt his heart pound as he watched Jaime size them up, continuing to exude confidence despite the odds against him.

"Ser Jaime Lannister, I have come to seize Queen Cersei as a hostage. She will be held safely until the capture of her son, Prince Joffrey, who has murdered my son and heir in cold blood. I promise you no harm will come to her, but you must understand that I cannot leave her free to roam my castle when her son has betrayed my family so. If you turn over your weapons, you may stay with her confined to house arrest under guard until this is sorted out."

Even though Lord Stark made a ridiculous demand now, Theon noted that he had made every effort at diplomacy. Unfortunately, Jaime Lannister was neither stupid enough to charge at Lord Stark as Ser Blount had, nor trusting enough to take a man covered in the blood of his sworn brother at his word.

"You know I cannot do that, Lord Stark," said the Kingslayer as his smile shifted from confident to jeering. "The Kingsguard must guard the royal family first and foremost. Despite anything my nephew might or might not have done, I cannot abandon my post. If you wish to detain my sweet sister, you will have to get through me." With that he raised his sword into a two-handed stance and set his feet in a defensive posture, waiting for someone to come at him.

Lord Stark remained stoic as he made his reply. "I do not want to kill you, Ser Lannister, but I will remind you that of the four Kingsguard I have personally fought against, four are now dead."

The Kingslayer's forehead wrinkled for the slightest moment, before his face cleared and he stated to no one in particular "The things I do for love." He came at Lord Stark steadily rather than with a blind charge. Two of the Winterfell guardsmen attempted to engage him with their spears, but despite their superior reach of their weapons both were soon bleeding out on the floor. Before the others could close in, Lord Stark himself attacked him with Ice.

The first blow was deflected by the Kingslayer, who then went on the attack. Lannister was clearly the better swordsman, and his shorter blade gave him more room to maneuver as well in the somewhat narrow hallway. Despite these advantages, Lord Stark did not give up ground. Ice was a lighter weapon, and the base of the blade at the pommel being as wide as Theon's hand while splayed out allowed Lord Stark to block both slashes and thrusts with relative ease. While he could not get close with a single attack, the Lord of Winterfell's defensive technique allowed him to hold his own.

Unfortunately, the wide swings of a greatsword as tall as a man made it nearly impossible for the remaining guards to assist Lord Stark in his duel. Theon tried to jump in twice, once having to lean back to dodge a strike from the Kingslayer and once having to retreat to avoid Lord Stark's blade.

This cannot go on forever. Someone must make this come to an end.

"Theon! Play to your strengths!" panted Lord Stark between breaths. Theon was surprised that he had the concentration to complete a sentence while still holding back the Kingslayer, but he understood the message well enough.

Theon dropped his sword and pulled his bow from his back. He knocked an arrow and took a deep breath as he drew it back to his cheek. Everyone in castle knew that Theon was the best archer in Winterfell, possibly in the North. He had soundly beat every visiting noble, lordling, merchant, or mercenary who had challenged him over the years. Lord Stark was entrusting his life to Theon and his marksmanship.

Both of these men were present when his father was forced to kneel before Robert Baratheon next to the corpses of his brothers. One had been his captor and had pulled him crying out of the arms of his wailing mother, never to see home again. The other acted in the name of the King, the only one alive that could pardon his family's crimes and send him back.

Time seemed to slow around him as he let the arrow fly.

A/N: All mistakes are my own. All criticism is appreciated.