Maester Luwin rushed to the raven house, bolting the door behind him. Throughout the castle of Winterfell, he could hear the screams of its inhabitants as they fought against the Ironborn. He rushed over to a desk, pulled out a quill and frantically wrote on a scrap of paper. Winterfell was in trouble. He had to reach out to Robb Stark, the proclaimed King in the North.

Tearing off the note, he attached it to the closest raven. Then, making sure the note was firmly tied to the raven's leg, he carried the small creature to the open window and threw it out into the air, and the bird flew instantly.

May the gods be with you, Maester Luwin said. He hoped the bird would find Robb. And that Robb will come to their aid.

However, while he was looking out at the raven flying through the air, the wooden door burst open behind him, and a couple of Ironborn knights entered, aiming their cold metal swords at him. Maester Luwin backed against the wall.


Theon Greyjoy entered the young Bran Stark's bedroom and approached where he lay. He stared down at the sleeping boy and sighed. He thought he would have woken by now. What with all the noise he and his men were making.

"I've taken your castle," Theon thundered.

Bran woke up and slowly leaned up. "Theon?" he asked. He hadn't seen him since he had left with Robb and the rest of the Stark's bannermen.

"It's Prince Theon now," Theon corrected. He was no longer the man he was when he left with Robb. He was now born again, christened with the waters of the Iron Islands. He was Ironborn again and not some Stark wannabe. He was a Greyjoy. He knew he couldn't fight for the Starks and his father simultaneously. "Get up. You have to get dressed. I've taken Winterfell. I have taken it, and I'm occupying it. I sent me over the walls with grappling claws and ropes. And they're reclaiming what is rightfully mine."

"When you walk into a man's home, you should ask if you've been invited," said another voice. Theon looked around and saw a shorter man entering from the shadows to the side.

"And who might you be, huh?" Theon asked. He hadn't seen the man when he was at Winterfell before.

"That matters not," Rumplestiltskin said as he approached where Theon stood. "What matters is this is not your castle."

Theon narrowed his eyes, feeling his anger rise. He was sure that taking Winterfell would be his key to proving himself to his father and his people. But now, this stranger was challenging his claim.

"I am a Greyjoy," Theon spat out. "I am the rightful ruler of the Iron Islands and Winterfell belongs to me."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. "Oh, I am well aware of your family's history, Theon Greyjoy. But I have a feeling that your claim to Winterfell might not be so straightforward."

Theon frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Rumplestiltskin leaned in closer. "Let's just say that Winterfell has a long and storied past, with many different houses laying claim to it over the centuries. And some of those claims might be more legitimate than yours."

Theon felt a knot form in his stomach. He had never considered that there might be other claimants to Winterfell, other than the Starks. "What do you suggest I do?"

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "I suggest that you tread carefully, Prince Theon. You may have taken Winterfell, but holding onto it may prove more difficult than you anticipate. And you never know who might be lurking in the shadows, waiting to challenge your claim." He inched forward, his hand gripping onto the hilt of Excalibur. "Like me."

Theon eyed him carefully. "You?"

Rumplestiltskin smirked. "We'll duel for the castle. At high noon today, when the sun is directly above us. You might want to get your affairs in order, dearie, for today might just be your last," he said. "Winner takes Winterfell, and the loser, well, let's just say they will be banished from this land, forbidden to return. Do we have a deal?"

Theon hesitated, his mind racing as he considered his options. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Winterfell, the ancestral seat of House Stark, which he had fought so hard to capture. "We have a deal," he said firmly.


Theon stood in the middle of the Winterfell Courtyard. A crowd of inhabitants surrounded him as he waited for Rumplestiltskin to arrive. The sun shone down overhead while he paced up and down. Yet there was no Rumplestiltskin.

He looked over at Bran, and he approached him. "He's not coming," he said. "He's not going to win back Winterfell. So you need to yield, or I will order my men to slaughter each one of your people."

"Seems a bit much, no?" Rumplestiltskin called from behind him. "Didn't think I would keep my word? You see, dearie, I never break a deal." He drew Excalibur from its holster and held it in front of him. "Shall we begin?"

Theon glared at Rumplestiltskin, and he drew his sword. He was confident in his sword fighting skills, and with his trusty sword, this would be over soon enough. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his blade, he lunged forward at Rumplestiltskin.

Rumplestiltskin blocked him with his sword, and the two began to duel. Theon lunged at Rumplestiltskin again, but before his blade could cut him, Rumplestiltskin vanished, making Theon nearly fall over forward.

Rumplestiltskin stood behind Theon, Excalibur pointed at his back. The ruby embedded in the hilt shone against the sun. He tapped the tip against Theon's shoulder blades, which made Theon jump and turned to face him. "Over here, dearie."

They duelled again, moving around the courtyard before Rumplestiltskin flung Theon into a stack of wooden crates. Theon felt his sword leave his hand, and he watched as Rumplestiltskin approached him. He watched as the other stood on the blade and pointed his sword at him, with the tip right at his throat.

"A deal's a deal, dearie," Rumplestiltskin said. "You may have captured Winterfell, but I won it back. It's my castle now. So you better run off."

Theon gritted his teeth in frustration. He knew he couldn't win this fight, and he couldn't risk the lives of his people by continuing to resist. With a heavy heart, he lowered his head and sheathed his sword. "Winterfell is yours," he said, defeated. "I yield."

Rumplestiltskin withdrew Excalibur and sheathed it, a grin spreading across his face. "Excellent," he said. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement. I'll allow you to leave unharmed, as long as you don't cause any trouble on your way out."

Theon sighed, and he got up from where he had fallen. He turned to his knights. "Let's go back to the Iron Islands."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "No. You go alone. Your knights are no longer yours. They are now the new guards of Winterfell. Or rather, my guards."

One of the Ironborn knights stepped up. "We serve the King of the Iron Islands. Not you."

Rumplestiltskin turned to face him. He held his hand up and gripped onto his throat, choking him with magic. "You used to serve the King of the Iron Islands. But now you serve me. Got it?"

The knight nodded frantically, struggling to breathe. Rumplestiltskin released his grip and the knight gasped for air.

"Good," Rumplestiltskin said with a satisfied smile. "Now, Theon. I expect you to keep our agreement. And if you ever dare to come back to the North or cause trouble in any way, I won't hesitate to use this sword on you and your Ironborn."

Theon nodded, his face pale. He now knew that Rumplestiltskin was not a man to be crossed lightly. With a last look at his former knights, he turned and walked away, heading towards the gates of Winterfell. As he walked, he couldn't help but feel a sense of bitter defeat. He had failed in his mission to take Winterfell, and he had lost his knights to the sorcerer's magic. But he knew that he would live to fight another day. He would return to the Iron Islands, and he would bide his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back.

Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin watched as Theon disappeared from view. He knew that he had won this battle, but he also knew that there would be more to come. The Ironborn were a proud and fierce people, and they would not take their defeat lightly. But for now, he had Winterfell back under the safety under Stark rule.

Rumplestiltskin used his magic and shut the gates. He looked around, raising his hand, and a shimmering white glow encased over the walls, the towers and the buildings.

Belle rushed through the crowd and over to him. "What did you do?" she asked.

"A protection spell. This is a strange land. One that is full of enemies," Rumplestiltskin answered. "We need a place where we will be protected. Where we can set up our home."

Belle nodded, understanding the need for safety in a new and unfamiliar place. "Thank you," she said, grateful for Rumplestiltskin's magic.

"What happens now?" asked Bran Stark, sitting on a wooden horse, where Maester Luwin, Hodor and his younger brother, Rickon.

Rumplestiltskin turned to face them. "Nothing happens. Your lives are still the same. So long as you stay within the walls of Winterfell, no harm will ever come to you or your family. That spell prevents anyone who brings danger into this castle."

Bran raised an eyebrow. "But what about the rest of the North? What about the war with the Lannisters?"

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. "The magic I've placed on this castle is limited to its walls. The rest of the North is still in danger, but that is not your concern, Bran. It's mine. Your duty is to protect your family and Winterfell."

Bran looked down at his wooden horse, lost in thought. He knew that Winterfell was his home, and he would do anything to protect it, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The world outside the walls of Winterfell was vast and full of danger. He wondered what his fate would be if he ever ventured beyond them.

Maester Luwin cleared his throat, breaking Bran out of his thoughts. "My lord, may I remind you that you have a council meeting to attend? Lord Stark is waiting for you in the Great Hall."

Bran nodded and hopped off his wooden horse. "Thank you, Maester. Come on, Hodor, Rickon, let's go."

As they walked towards the Great Hall, Bran couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that hung over him. He knew that he had a duty to his family and to Winterfell, but he couldn't help but wonder what lay beyond the castle walls. He knew that someday, he would have to leave Winterfell and face the dangers of the world, but for now, he was content to stay within the safety of its walls.


In the Westerlands, the Stark Army made their camp. It gave the medics and nurses time to heal the wounded and for the others to rest before their further advancements on the Lannisters.

Robb Stark, the oldest child of Lord Eddard and Catelyn Stark, walked through the camp, checking on his men and seeing how they were until someone caught his eye. A lone woman sitting on a log, who appeared to be writing something on a scrap of paper. One of the nurses was looking after the wounded.

He approached her. "Lady Talisa," Robb said as he approached her.

Talisa Maegyr turned around, folding the paper in her hands. "Your Grace. I'm not sure I'm a lady. Westerosi customs are still a bit foreign to me."

Robb nodded. "It's hard to keep all the rules straight," he agreed. "But if I remember my lessons, a woman of novel birth is always called a lady. Unless she's a queen or a princess. I could find someone who knows."

"Why are you so sure I'm of noble birth?"

"Because it's obvious," Robb answered.

"What if I told you my father sold lace on the Long Bridge," Talisa said as she stood up from the log she was sitting on, "and my mother, my brother, and I lived with him above our shop?"

Robb took a step towards her. "I'd call you a liar."

"Not very noble to accuse a lady of dishonesty," Talisa said before smiling. "I always thought I was a brilliant liar."

"Better at amputations, I'm afraid," Robb said as he looked around where he had found Talisa sitting. "Quite a pretty spot."

"Will we be here long?"

"I couldn't discuss troop movements with you."

"I'm not a spy," Talisa retorted.

"Of course, a spy would deny being a spy."

"You're right. You've found me out. I'm writing a letter to the Lannisters." She looked down at the paper she had been writing on. "'The young wolf is on the move.'"

"Perhaps you'd join me. If you've got time, of course, for, well…." But he couldn't finish what he was saying, for someone interrupted him.

"Robb," came the voice. Robb turned around. It was his mother who had returned from her trip to the Stormlands. But she wasn't alone. A tall blonde woman dressed in armour was standing behind her.

"Mother," he said as he approached Catelyn Stark and hugged her. Catelyn hugged her son back before catching who Robb was talking to. Robb caught the glance that Catelyn gave to Talisa and realised that they didn't know each other. "Mother, this is Lady Talisa. She's been helping with the wounded," he introduced. "She's been very helpful."

Catelyn smiled. "Lady Talisa."

"Lady Stark," Talisa said.

"Lady Talisa …?"

"Maegyr," Talisa replied.

"Maegyr? Forgive me; I do not know this name."

"An uncommon name here. An old name in Volantis. Excuse me, my lady. Your Grace." She smiled at the both of them before turning and leaving.

Robb watched her leave, but Catelyn saw how he was looking at Talisa. "I've missed you," he told his mother.

"Yes. You look positively forlorn."

You surprised me, that's all. I didn't think I'd see you today."

"I wish you were free to follow your heart," Catelyn said.

"I know.".

"You have inherited your father's responsibilities. I'm afraid they come at a cost. You are promised to another."

"I know," Robb repeated. He had to marry Lord Walder Frey's daughter, as per the alliance that they had formed. But how could he marry someone he didn't know or love?

"This is a debt that must be paid."

"I haven't forgotten," Robb stated as one of his bannermen – Lord Roose Bolton – approached them.

"Your Grace. My lady," Roose said. "News from Winterfell. We should discuss this privately."

They headed back to the main tent in the camp – the war tent – and stood around the centre table while Roose read aloud the note from Winterfell. The note that Maester Luwin had hurriedly written hours before. Winterfell had been invaded by the Greyjoys – led by Theon Greyjoy himself.

"This cannot be true," Robb stated.

"We've also had ravens from White Harbour, Barrowton and the Dreadfort," Roose said. "I'm afraid it is true."

"Why? Why would Theon …."

"Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores," Roose interrupted.

"And my brothers?"

"Safe," came a voice from behind Robb. "I've made sure of that myself."

They all looked behind at the man who had entered the tent. Rumplestiltskin. He approached the table in the middle and looked around before looking at Robb. "I know you," he said. "You're supposed to be in Qarth."

"Qarth?" Robb asked, and he tilted his head. "I've never left Westeros."

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head, and he approached Robb. He looked over at him. There was something different about him, but he still looked like the Professor. He conjured an empty vial in his left hand before plucking a lone strand of hair from his head.

"Ow!" Robb winced.

"Don't worry. You have plenty," Rumplestiltskin said as he placed the strand of hair in the vial. "This will tell me what I need to know." He waved his hand over the vial, watching as it glowed. He studied it carefully. The DNA makeup of it – and the story that it told – was not of Time Lord origin.

Catelyn Stark watched him with great intent. It had been ages since she had last seen him. But she remembered him well. "Is that the magic you once said?" she asked.

Rumplestiltskin looked over at Catelyn. "Indeed it is, dearie. But there is more to it than that."

She looked over at Excalibur in his holster. "And it appears you have a sword now."

Robb looked from his mother, then at Rumplestiltskin. "You know him?"

Catelyn nodded. "This is Rumplestiltskin. He was a friend of your father's back in King's Landing."

"He was a brave man," Rumplestiltskin stated. "Right to the end. I didn't know him for long, but I know he wouldn't want his home to fall into enemy hands."

"What happened to Theon?" Robb asked.

"I banished him," Rumplestiltskin answered. "I made him walk back to where he called home. Alone. Never to return to this land."

"I need to go after him. He will die for betraying House Stark," Robb told them.

"Do you think that's wise, dearie? Abandoning your army – this war – to find a traitor up in the North? You are a king, are you not?"

"I am a king."

"And that means you don't have to do everything yourself. Let me send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort," Roose suggested. "He can raise a few men and search the North for him, and then he can bring him here. We have the Lannisters on the run. You are needed here. If you march back north now, you'll lose what you gained. My boy would be honoured to bring you Prince Theon's head."

"No. I want him brought to me alive," Robb stated. "I want to look him in the eye and ask why he betrayed me. And then I'll take his head myself."