Chapter 55: Northern Summaries

Winter was coming. The snow fall this time had been thick and icy. The winds were chilled. Everything was suggesting that winter was finally going to come. And with it the Age of Fire would come to its end. Wendel was unsure if he was looking forward to that or not. All he knew was that he had made a deal and the Gods would see it through before they took their price.

Moat Cailin loomed before him. He remained ahorse, the army around him. Ser Rodrik Cassel at his side. They'd had a brief discussion about who would start the negotiations with the Ironborn in the Moat. Lady Stark had named Ser Rodrik as the man in charge, and Wendel had been willing to give way on that. However, Ser Rodrik had insisted he take command given his noble birth.

The Cranogmen had not shown themselves, instead they continued to harass the Ironborn as they tried to get supplies from their ships. Wendel had been tempted to burn their ships when he'd arrived but had decided against it. Better to allow the Ironborn to show their hand first, before he took any action.

A figure appeared on the walls of the Moat, a tall, burly man.

"Who are you?" The man demanded.

"I am Ser Wendel Manderly, son of Lord Manderly of White Harbour. I come bearing word from Their Graces King Robb and Queen Myrcella. Who are you?" Wendel asked.

"I am Victarion Greyjoy. Brother of Balon Greyjoy, King of the Isles and the North. What do you want?" The man, Victarion demanded.

"To ask that you vacate Moat Cailin." Wendel answered. "You are surrounded. You lack supplies and your men will not get reinforcements from Pyke."

Victarion Greyjoy said nothing for a moment, no doubt he was simply trying to digest the news Wendel had just given him. When he did finally speak, he sounded uncertain. "And what makes you so sure of this?"

"Because Deepwood Motte has fallen to the forces of Winterfell, your niece and her men are dead. Because your nephew is a prisoner in Winterfell, because the Cranogmen continue to harass your supply lines. And finally, because your brothers Balon and Aeron are dead and Pyke itself is submerged in the water." Wendel said.

A moment passed, then Victarion said. "You lie."

Wendel shook his head, and pulled out a braid that he knew belonged to Aeron Greyjoy. He held it up high for Victarion to see. "I was there when Pyke fell. I know that the words I say are the truth."

Victarion didn't reply immediately, he seemed to be contemplating what to do. When he did eventually reply, his words were defiant. "I am Ironborn, I know not how to surrender. If you would take the Moat, come and take it."

Wendel sighed. He had hoped not to have to do this, but if the man was truly so foolish, then there was no other choice. He clapped his hands and listened as the water began to bubble and the ground began to shake. The deep claimed another salt victim.

Bran watched as Sansa and Arya sat down next to him. Something was going to be said now. What it was he didn't know, but he just knew that they were going to talk to him about something. He could tell from the way they held themselves. Sansa held her head up high, her eyes were piercing. Arya looked down and shuffled from side to side.

Bran frowned.

"What is it?" He asked, wanting to get this over and done with.

"We…we wanted to see how you were doing?" Sansa said.

Bran looked at Sansa, truly looked at her, and he couldn't get the sense that there was an ulterior motive there, so he replied honestly. "I am both relieved and scared."

"Why?" Arya asked.

"I'm relieved because I was wrong about Theon, but I am scared because I was right about how Ser Wendel retook Deepwood Motte." Bran said.

"Do you really believe those rumours?" Sansa asked. Rumours about fish folk or something else coming out of the water and destroying the ships of the Ironborn, of Ser Wendel himself becoming something else.

"It's not just rumours. I saw it!" Bran said. He'd dreamed about it before it had happened, and Theon had confirmed it.

"Bran…" Sansa began.

"Don't!" Bran said. "Don't say it's just a flight of fancy. I was right about Deepwood Motte, and I was right about Moat Cailin. I knew exactly how it would fall, and the reports we've gotten from Ser Rodrik confirm that that is exactly how it happened."

"So, what do you want us to say?" Arya demanded. "You understand how all of this sounds, don't you?"

"Yes." Bran said, his fear coming to the fore. "I know that better than anyone."

"Jojen isn't helping matters. He keeps saying that this is proof that I need to go north of the wall." Bran added. The thought of going north of the wall terrified him. That was the one thing he definitely did not want to do.

"Absolutely not!" Sansa said, sounding just like Mother. "There is no reason for you to go beyond the wall. Whatever it is you're seeing, I am sure we can find an explanation within Winterfell."

"Do you think so?" Bran asked, hopeful, he didn't want to go beyond the wall. He didn't want to leave Winterfell.

Sansa took his hand. "Yes, I know so. Winterfell will have the answers, and Jojen Reed will just have to accept that."

Bran nodded and squeezed her hand, thankful that they'd had this conversation. And that he wouldn't need to say anything to Mother about it. At least, he hoped not.

"Theon Greyjoy." The herald said.

Catelyn remained rooted to the chair she was sat in. Bran was sat in the Lord's seat next to her. She had debated whether he should be present for this, after all, he had grown up with Theon, but at the same time, based on Robb's most recent letter, Bran was to become Lord of Winterfell, and he would need to know what things would be expected of him.

For now, she would handle the vocal duties that came with the position.

"Theon Greyjoy, you have been found guilty of treason. The punishment for treason is death. However, in his leniency, His Grace has decided to offer you two choices. You can either take the Black and life the rest of your life at the Wall, or you can go into exile in Essos, never to set foot in Westeros ever again. However, if you choose the latter option, you must be gelded." Catelyn said. She had found that latter option quite harsh. But she supposed if the boy before her wasn't to be executed that was the next best option.

Theon looked at her with his lifeless eyes. He had not said much since being taken prisoner. He had only described how Deepwood Motte had fallen to the northern army, and how Ser Wendel had brought the deep to life. When he did speak, his voice was soft. "I will go to the Wall."

Catelyn nodded. "Then you shall leave today." Greyjoy nodded and was led away.

Catelyn looked at Bran and as her boy-he was growing up so quickly-spoke, she felt a hint of pride for how he carried himself. "My lords and ladies," Bran began. "It is my pleasure to inform you of a great victory that has freed Moat Cailin from the tyranny of the Ironborn. There remain no Ironborn within the north."

A cheer rang out across the great hall at that. Catelyn smiled. Ser Rodrik's letter describing what had happened sounded fanciful, but it matched with how Alysanne Mormont described what had happened at the Motte. So, maybe, just maybe there was some truth to it. In which case perhaps the Manderlys were more dangerous than she first thought.

"With this in mind, I ask that Jojen and Meera Reed come forth." Bran continued.

Catelyn watched as the Reed siblings stepped forward. Bran hadn't told her why he wanted them gone, but truth be told, she was not going to deny him that chance to see them gone on his terms. She didn't like Jojen, he seemed far away from reality.

"Jojen, Meera, you came to present your gifts for the harvest. And with the Ironborn holding Moat Cailin it was deemed safer for you to remain here. The Ironborn are gone. Therefore, I feel it is right that you return home." Bran said confidently.

There was a brief silence, and Catelyn saw the Reed siblings exchange looks, before Meera answered. "We thank you for your bread and salt, Lord Stark and we shall give your good wishes to our Lord Father."

Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief that that had been resolved peacefully.