Walder

Walder Frey was sitting up in his bed, looking at his betrothed, who stood near the door to his room. "You wanted to see me?" she was asking him.

For another moment, he stared at her, before answering. "More than that."

"What do you think Lady Catelyn would say?" She said, giggling a little, as she closed the door behind her, and then stepped in a little closer, making herself more visible. Wylla Manderly was a pretty thing, even if she wasn't one of the great beauties singers always sang of. She was only wearing a sleeveless nightgown, revealing her arms. Her green hair wasn't in a braid as she normally wore it either, and her sea-green eyes seemed to gleam in the dim candlelight.

Lady Catelyn doesn't rule here anymore, he thought. Walder knew better than to tell that to her. He knew of Wylla's fondness for the Starks, and her loyalty to them, and after Theon Greyjoy had taken Winterfell, it had become a sore subject for her. Wylla was sure it was only a matter of time until Ser Rodrik returned, with a great host to flush the Ironborn out of Winterfell, and have Greyjoy executed as a traitor. Walder was not as sure as her. It was Maester Luwin who troubled him a little more, but in any case, Walder did not want to concern himself with what the old man would think now, or Lady Catelyn. "Come here," he told her instead.

"Are you certain?" she said, with another fit of giggles. "Oh fine…"

Walder watched as Wylla kicked off her slippers with little care, and easily shrugged out of her nightgown, allowing it to fall to the floor. His wife-to-be was skinny, unlike her father or grandfather, with round hips and ample breasts. He was naked already, and for a few seconds he only stared at her, taking in her beauty, before she started to walk towards the bed.

Fucking her did not take long, and by the time he spent himself inside her, Walder was breathless, but she didn't seem the slightest bit tired as she rested herself on top of him. As they laid together, he ran one of his hands over her smooth skin, while she took the other with her own hand, and held it. Her hand was soft and warm, with long and slender fingers.

They had been betrothed for nearly three years now.

After his cousin, Elinor, had died birthing the Young Wolf's daughter, Lame Uncle Lothar had suggested he and his cousin, Walder, be fostered at Winterfell, to make amends. "The boys will grow close with Lord Eddard's sons, and be as close as brothers themselves," he'd overheard his half-uncle tell his mother, when they had argued about it. She had not been pleased to have her only son be fostered so far away, even with assurances that they would be able to make plenty of visits. Walder had never grown close with any of Lord Eddard's sons though, and he and his cousin were hardly friends either.

He had not known what to expect when Lord Eddard spoke to him of the marriage his grandfather had arranged for him, and had felt even more dread when he first met Ser Wylis and Lord Wyman, until he had met Lady Wylla herself.

Following their betrothal, Wylla had visited Winterfell at least twice a year. He was sure he had made a fool of himself when they were introduced to each other, and at first they seldom spoke, but it had not taken much to change. Most recently, when Wylla had come to Winterfell for the Harvest Festival, with her grandfather, she chose to linger afterwards, even while her grandfather returned to White Harbor. A little under two moons later, she had come to him for the first time, and he had taken her maidenhead.

Maester Luwin had been furious when he learned of that, and had been planning to send Wylla home, though it was later that day they got word of the Ironborn attacking Torrhen's Square. Only a few days after that, Greyjoy had returned to Winterfell, and took the castle.

According to reports, the Ironborn had taken Deepwood Motte as well, and Moat Cailin, trapping Robb and his army in the south, preventing them from retaking the castle, while Ser Rodrik had been away attempting to clear out the Ironmen at Torrhen's Square. Now it was not Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik and Queen Myrcella who ruled the castle, but Theon Greyjoy, who did not care at all what Walder and Wylla did.

"Again?" Wylla asked, interrupting his thoughts.

She was grinning, and he did not bother to give her an answer with words, instead putting a kiss on her lips. When their kiss ended, this time she was breathless, as she started to rise a little, adjusting herself.

Wylla helped to guide his cock into her moist cunt, and she gasped as he entered her. "Yes…" she moaned, as she rocked her hips, her thrusts coming harder and harder, with her legs around his.

Walder moved his hands to her waist, but she took them instead, and moved them up to her breasts, having him cup them in his hands. He fondled them for a moment, and then with his right hand he took her nipple and pinched.

"Yes… oh gods, yes… yes…" she cried out. She tightened her grip on her left hand to squeeze her breast, and he silenced her by kissing her. She kept rocking back and forth, as though she was trying to get further and deeper with each push.

After a few seconds, she bit his lip, deep enough to draw blood, causing his head to fall back. Before he could say anything else, she took his hands and pressed them down against the bed, before putting her hands around his head, and pushing it to her teats.

Walder quickly realized what she wanted. He licked her pink nipple, tasting it, before he put his lips to it, kissing and suckling on it. "There… yes… yes… more… moooorrrrre…" She said, still holding his head by the hair to keep him there.

Before Wylla could say anything more, she shuttered again, only a few moments before Walder found himself being surprised by his own climax, spilling his seed within her once again.

This time, she rolled off of him, to lay beside him in the bed. He saw that she was sweating, and there was blood on her teat that he had been suckling on, just above her nipple. "Did I…" Walder started to ask, before he lifted his hand to his lip, and wiped it. It was bleeding, and he was only noticing now that it stung.

Wylla must have seen the blood as he lifted his hand away from his face too. "Sorry," she said. She wiped his blood off of herself, before she kissed him again. "You cut yourself while shaving," she told him, smiling. He saw there was still a little red on her otherwise white teeth.

"Shaving…" Walder echoed. He was sure his cousin would be quick to make japes about it, and perhaps Theon as well.

"Yes, you dolt. Shaving," she said.

"I never knew any razor to have teeth," he said.

"Mayhaps yours does," she insisted.

"My cousin is more clever than that," he insisted. For as poorly as they got along, Walder knew his cousin, who was called Big Walder, even though he was smaller, was clever. Except when it came to his desire to one day rule the Twins. "He'll know."

"Then you tell him the truth," she said. "You bedded a mermaid. If he's so clever, he'll know it to be true."

Walder felt himself smile a little. His cousin had not been pleased to learn that he was betrothed to Wylla. Maester Luwin had assured him that some match would be made for him in time, though none never had. His cousin had wanted to marry Arya, and once even spoke to Lord Eddard on the matter, though he was refused. During Robb and Myrcella's wedding feast, he'd worked up the courage to kiss her. Instead of a kiss though, his cousin had gotten a slap across the face. It was hardly a wonder to him why his cousin was always so bitter and jealous.

Just then, the door opened. Wylla yelped and quickly tried to cover herself under the furs.

Walder was expecting it to be Big Walder or Maester Luwin or someone else, but it was one of the Ironmen. Urzen, this one was called.

"What do you want?" Walder asked him angrily. "And why can't you knock?"

"You're being summoned to the yard," Urzen told them. "The whole castle is."

"At this hour?" Wylla asked, confused. "What possibly could-"

"The prince's orders," the man said.

"The prince…" Wylla started, but her voice trailed off. Only a week ago, there had been four princes in the castle, and they would have needed to ask which one the orders were coming from. But there was only one true prince in Winterfell now, self-styled or not. Thankfully, his betrothed knew better than to argue with the man.

"None other." Urzen did not linger, turning back to the door and stepping out.

Walder got up first, walking naked over to the spot on the floor where Wylla had left her nightgown, and tossed it over to her on the bed. "We should hurry," he told her, going over to his dresser.

It did not take him very long to put his breeches, with a white doublet and blue jerkin. He put on his socks and laced his boots quickly enough too, before he took out a cloak and put that on too.

When he turned back to Wylla, she had risen, though she was still naked. She had cleaned herself off with the towel that lay on the bed, but hadn't dressed herself. "I…"

"Should put that on," he said, pointing at the nightgown in her hands. "Greyjoy won't care that we were together." She nodded nervously, while he took out another cloak for her. A grey wool cloak, trimmed with blue, and a blue hood too.

He walked over to her, and put it on her after she was finished with the nightgown. It was a little long for her, with the bottom making it all the way to the floor, but he thought it suited her well. "Thank you," he heard her whisper.

Together, they walked out of his bedchamber in the great keep. When he looked down the corridor, he expected to perhaps see the Starks, or at least hear them in their bedchambers, readying themselves, but he didn't.

In the yard, some of the castle had already been gathered, and he saw more were still coming. Most were hastily dressed, some wearing nothing more than a blanket they had wrapped around themselves, or were naked underneath their cloaks.

It felt colder to Walder now than it normally was, even with the hot springs flowing to warm the castle. He could see his own breath, and next to him, he could hear Wylla shivering a little. Several children were crying, and some were loudly asking what they were being gathered for to no response from the Ironborn.

Walder was taller than most, even at just four and ten, and he looked for familiar faces to arrive. His cousin came not so long after them, and he spotted others too. Maester Luwin had already been there when they arrived, and he found young Beth Cassel too. Farlen arrived quickly enough too. Even Old Nan was there.

But it was those he couldn't find that Walder thought more of. Greyjoy and his men had killed the blacksmith, Mikken, Alebelly the guardsman and the Septon Chayle, and he could sense the unease within the crowd. Around them were several guards, blocking any way out, weapons drawn. Does Greyjoy mean to put the castle to the sword? Walder wondered. If so, he found himself wishing that he still had his sword, though Greyjoy had taken it away after he took the castle, locking it away with all the other weapons he could find, along with Bran and Rickon's direwolves. Ser Merlon Crakehall- the former Kingsguard knight wasn't there though, and the Starks were absent with him. The Reeds, Hodor… that wildling woman whose name he couldn't remember… Has Greyjoy purged the castle?

He had overheard Maester Luwin advising Theon to return to Pyke, with the Starks and Reeds as hostages. Greyjoy had ignored it then, but now Walder wondered if he meant to take the advice. Perhaps he'd gathered them for that purpose, though Walder wondered why he and his cousin and Wylla were there. Surely they would make for valuable prisoners too.

As the very last of the household entered the yard, Theon finally came, with a pair of his Ironmen tailing him. He stepped onto the platform, and for a moment looked down at all of them, before he finally spoke. "Lady Myrcella has fled with her children, and Bran and Rickon," he announced loudly. "Who knows where they've gone?"

None in the crowd moved to give an answer, and when Walder looked around, he saw most of them were looking down, away from Theon, or nervously at the Ironborn trapping them in the yard.

"They could not have escaped without help," the heir to Pyke continued. "They left without food, clothing, weapons."

Once more, Greyjoy looked at them for an answer, and did not receive any.

"I'll have the names of all those who aided them. All those who turned a blind eye," he declared. "Come first light, I mean to bring them back."

How? Walder wanted to ask for a moment. He realized they must have fled with Ser Wylis and Ser Merlon, and he could not hear the direwolves either. If the Starks had two wolves and two knights, who he knew would not allow themselves to be recaptured and Theon would need to leave much of his men to hold the castle.

Greyjoy stepped down from the platform, and began to walk around among the crowd. "I need huntsmen. Who wants a nice warm wolfskin to see them through the winter? Gage?"

Walder saw Gage on the edge of the crowd, near where Theon was standing. The cook looked up at Theon, but did not give him an answer. After a few moments, Theon gave up with the cook, and walked again.

"The wild is no place for a cripple," he said, stopping in front of Lady Lyarra. "And the rest of the children, young as they are, how long will they last out there? My lady, think how frightened they must be."

Walder watched the old widow of Winterfell. She too remained silent, as still as stone. Theon gave her an angry look- but must have realized there was nothing that could be done that would make her betray what was left of her family. Then he looked back at the rest of them again.

"I might have killed every man of you and given your women to my soldiers for their pleasure, but instead I protected you," Greyjoy told them. "Is this the thanks you offer?"

It was the prisoner, Reek, who stepped closer to Theon. He said something quietly, the Walder could not hear, though Walder could make out the worried reactions of those who were closer.

"There will be no flaying in the north so long as I rule in Winterfell," Theon said loudly, seemingly in an attempt to assure those who had heard what the man had said. And perhaps to endear himself to them as well, though it did little.

"Joseth, saddle Smiler and a horse for yourself. Farlen, I'll want your hounds, and you to handle them. Murch, Gariss, Poxy Tym, you'll come as well." he finally ordered, and then he turned to his own men. "Aggar, Rednose, Gelmarr, Reek, Wex."

It was Farlen who was the only one to protest. "And why would I care to hunt down my own trueborn lords, and babes at that?" He asked.

Theon went closer to the man, and said something to him that caused the man to forget his defiance. "Aye, m'lord," was the only answer the kennel master could muster.

For a moment, Theon looked around. "Maester Luwin," he called out.

The Maester looked at Theon, full of surprise. "I know nothing of hunting."

"Then it's past time you learned," was Theon's only response, but Walder sensed he knew the true reason.

"Let me come too. I want that wolfskin cloak," Walder suddenly heard his cousin say to Theon. "I've hunted lots of times before," he said. "Red deer and elk, and even boar."

Walder wanted to laugh at his cousin. He was the much better hunter, with his cousin rarely being allowed near the animals when they went on hunts. Wylla was clutching at his arm, but he shrugged her aside as he went over. If his cousin was going, he would too. "I'll go too," he announced.

Theon looked at them both a little mistrustfully for a few moments. "Come if you like," he finally said, before turning to one of his men and telling him that he would have command of the castle while they were gone.

The crowd was allowed to disperse, mostly returning to their beds. When he looked up, he noticed the moon was getting low in the sky, and Walder figured it would be only a couple of hours at most before the sun would rise. He had been sleeping for a few hours before Wylla finally came to him, and he felt rested enough that he wouldn't need to sleep more.

"Wylla," he called out, trying to find her among the parting crowd. He expected to hear her answer, or even just to come to him, but she didn't. He looked around for her among the crowd, but she wasn't there. He considered calling her name again, but he didn't want to draw attention to them. She's gone, he realized, figuring she must have returned to the great keep without him.

Walder hoped that it was because she knew better than to return there with him after they were seen walking out together, but he sensed that wasn't really why she'd gone back alone. He guessed that she was angry with him for agreeing to join the hunt.

When he finally made it back to his bedchamber, he didn't find her there, only the cloak he had given her, thrown on the floor. He was tempted to go to her bedchambers, since he guessed that was where she would be, but he decided against it.

Instead, he changed into garb more suitable for hunting, and began to prepare.

He guessed that the Reeds must have fled with them too, and he hadn't seen that wildling woman, Osha. All three of them were dangerous, and he knew there was a chance he would need to defend himself, so he asked Theon for a sword. The prince was reluctant at first, but gave in, and had one of his men fetch his sword belt from where the swords had been locked away.

But it wasn't only the frog-eaters and wildlings he hoped to use the sword on. Greyjoy was bringing seven Winterfell men, and only four of his own men, and Reek, whose loyalties Walder still did not know. While Walder did not think the rest would be of much use in a fight, the dogs would follow Farlen. If they found the Starks, they would have a knight and two wolves. Together, they would be more than enough to kill the Ironborn. Three men and two wolves wouldn't be enough to take the castle by storm, but they could use Theon as a hostage to force them to turn over the castle.

Walder did not care for the Starks, but he was sure that if he were to help retake Winterfell for them, and be the one to throw Theon a cell, Wylla would be pleased. His cousin had always called him stupid as a pig, but he'd never come up with a scheme half so clever as that.

They gathered at the Hunter's Gate on the west end of the castle, which had been the gate the Starks had fled from. The bodies of the two men who were at the gate when they fled had been moved, though Walder had seen their corpses, and could still see the blood stains on the ground too. Their swords had been taken, which meant the knights would be armed.

His cousin had a sword, even if he wasn't very good with one, but no one else from Winterfell was carrying weapons, and Greyjoy and his men seemed to have all picked weapons more suitable to fight the direwolves than the knights, but were all mounted. All the better, Walder told himself.

As they set out, Walder felt confident they would be back before long. Every one of their party's members was mounted, while they were hunting for prey that was all afoot. They were pursuing a cripple, a simpleton, a woman who was still unable to mount a horse after giving birth and five little children, the youngest of whom was only a couple of months old.

Outside the gate, the tracks were clear, and easy to follow. The direwolf paws and the bigger steps of Myrcella, Ser Merlon, Hodor and Osha with the smaller steps of the Reeds, Rickon, and potentially Melantha. Farlen guessed that Myrcella had kept her two sons in a carrier while little Joanna was being held by Ser Merlon or someone else, and Melantha was walking at the southern princess' side. It wasn't very difficult to tell which steps belonged to who either. At one point, it seemed the queen had stumbled and fallen onto her knees, and at several points he guessed Rickon and Melantha had been picked up when they wanted to make haste.

But before long, they were in the wolfswood, and tracking them there became harder. They went slower, and it was the hounds who led, tracking the scent and guiding them. On a few occasions, Walder considered talking to his cousin to tell him of the plan he had made, but with so many others around, he did not think it would be safe.

At one point, he saw Greyjoy and Maester Luwin speak, with the maester pleading for Theon to have mercy if they found the Starks. Walder found himself waiting for when the maester would finally come speak to him, but he never did.

Only after a long while, when they were deep in the woods did Theon finally approach him. "You were abed with the Manderly girl last night, yes?"

"Yes," Walder admitted. There was no denying it. "We're betrothed."

"I'm aware," Theon said with a nod. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"She is."

"Why did you come?" Theon asked. "Why leave her to come hunt?"

Walder felt his blood beginning to rise a little. Did he figure out my plan? "I wanted to feel a horse between my legs again," he said. "We haven't been able to ride out of the castle since Robb went south…"

Theon chuckled. "I know you well enough to know that's a lie," he said. "You like to hunt, but certainly not ride."

His face went red. In truth, he hadn't wanted his cousin to go alone, and certainly didn't want to hear his japes about him not going on the hunt, but Theon would probably think that a lie as well. "For Wylla…" He finally said.

"For Wylla?" His foster brother raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"The wedding," Walder said. "Maester Luwin said it wouldn't happen for another year at least. Not until he'd spoken to Lady Catelyn and Lord Wyman and my father and grandfather… After we were caught, he said we would be sent home, and said we wouldn't be allowed to see each other until the wedding."

"And you hope that by helping me, I'll allow you to be wed sooner?"

"I'll be your loyal subject, my prince," Walder said before he lowered his voice. "Her father is an old, fat man at war, and her grandfather even fatter and older. I can be your loyal Lord of White Harbor."

"What would you need of me in this scheme of yours?" Theon wondered. "You keep the Seven, don't you? I killed Chayle."

"Wylla's sister, Wynafryd- she's widowed, but she's older," he explained. Wynafryd's husband had been Torrhen Karstark, who died in the south at the Battle of the Whispering Wood. She'd birthed a daughter not long after his death named Jessamyn, and Walder had seen them at the Harvest Festival. "They don't have any brothers, and their only uncle is unwed and childless too. Your father has longships, doesn't he?"

Theon looked at him strangely. "On the Sunset Sea, not the Narrow Sea."

"Exactly." Walder had been there when Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik had spoken with Lord Wyman about constructing a fleet of warships. "You need me to win White Harbor."

Theon paused for a moment, contemplating it. "Serve me well, and I'll have you made the Lord of White Harbor," he promised.

They continued to ride for hours. At one point, they came across an elk that the direwolves must have killed. It seemed that none of the meat had been taken for the Starks to eat later, which caused Theon to ask Farlen if they had truly been following the right wolves.

But they finally came to a stop when they reached an overflowing brook, where the hounds lost the scent.

Greyjoy quickly dismounted and went to the stream, dipping his hand in it to feel the water. "They won't have stayed long in this," Theon said. Take half the dogs downstream, I'll go up-"

He was interrupted by his mute squire, who clapped his hands. Wex, Walder remembered the boy was called.

"What is it?" asked Theon.

Wex pointed at the ground, where fresh pawprints could be seen. With the ground as wet as it was, the tracks were clearer than they had been in some time, and they seemed fresh too.

"Pawprints, yes. So?"

The mute lad stepped into the ground, and moved his foot about to leave a deep gouge.

Walder was confused by what the boy was trying to say, and several others seemed to be too.

Finally, it was Joseth who spoke up. "A man the size of Hodor ought to have left a deep print in this mud," he said. "More so with the weight of a boy on his back. Yet the only boot prints here are our own. See for yourself."

Walder quickly saw that it was true. There should have been at least six footprints, yet it seemed there weren't any.

"Osha must have turned aside back of us. Before the elk, most likely. She sent the wolves on by themselves, hoping we'd chase after them," Theon said, turning back to the rest of the party. "If you two have played me false-"

"-There's been only the one trail, my lord, I swear it," said Gariss defensively. "And the direwolves would never have parted from them boys. Not for long."

Walder knew that was true enough. He'd seen how quick the wolves were to defend their masters. Beasts they may have been, but they were loyal.

Theon seemed to know it too, before he gave more orders. "Gariss, Murch, take four dogs and double back, find where we lost them. Aggar, you watch them, I'll have no trickery. Farlen and I will follow the direwolves. Give a blast on the horn when you pick up the trail. Two blasts if you catch sight of the beasts themselves. Once we find where they went, they'll lead us back to their masters."

It wasn't very long before they started out in their different directions. Walder went with Theon, trying to find the wolves upriver.

Greyjoy and his mute squire were together on one side of the brook, while Walder was with one of the Ironmen, Gynir. There were two hounds on each side of the river.

Twice, Walder stopped to briefly investigate what he thought might have been pawprints, but both proved to be fruitless. Other tracks were not so hard to find, but there did not seem to be any direwolf tracks.

At one point, he found some rabbits hiding underneath a bush, and flushed them out, with Greyjoy managing to kill one with an arrow, though they did not find any more animal carcasses, no more than they found prints.

Walder felt perplexed. The Starks had gone into the heart of the wolfswood, and seemed to be going to Deepwood Motte. He had been to Deepwood Motte only once before, but it was hardly the strongest castle in the North, and it took a little under a fortnight to ride there, when they were all afoot now. If it were him, he would have sought to join with Ser Rodrik with his men in the west near Torrhen's Square, or make for Cerwyn, which was only a day's ride south. If they had stolen some horses from the stables, perhaps they could already be there now. Most of the garrison would likely be gone, as it was at Winterfell, though the Ironborn wouldn't be able to surprise them like with Winterfell. And they would be safest to go east instead, to find their way to White Harbor or Karhold or some other castle.

It was near midday when Greyjoy finally gave up. He seemed frustrated as he wheeled his horse around, and then began to turn back to where they had come from.

On the way back, Walder and Gynir stayed as silent as Wex. Walder did still look for any signs of tracks he might have missed before, though he didn't have much faith. And when they finally met up with Farlen and his party, they hadn't had any more luck.

"The only thing those dogs are fit for is a bear baiting. Would that I had a bear," Theon said angrily.

"The dogs are not at fault," Farlen said, kneeling to pet two of his hounds. "Running water don't hold no scents, m'lord."

"The wolves had to come out of the stream somewhere," Theon insisted.

Farlen agreed. "No doubt they did. Upstream or down. We keep on, we'll find the place, but which way?"

Before Theon could answer, it was the man Reek who spoke. "I never knew a wolf to run up a streambed for miles," he said. "A man might. If he knew he was being hunted, he might. But a wolf?"

Instead of searching up the river more, first they went to find the other group that had followed their track back to Winterfell. It was plain they hadn't had any more luck either, despite making it half of the way back to Winterfell, they still hadn't been able to find where they split off from the wolves.

Greyjoy was still frustrated, and he was not the only one. "We'll return to the brook," Theon announced to them after a time. "Search again. This time we'll go as far as we must."

"We won't find them," his cousin said suddenly. "Not so long as the frog-eaters are with them. Mudmen are sneaks, they won't fight like decent folks, they skulk and use poison arrows, You never see them, but they see you. Those who go into the bogs after them get lost and never come out. Their houses move, even the castles like Greywater Watch. They might be out there right now, listening to everything we say."

It's true, Walder wanted to say when he heard Farlen laugh. "My dogs would smell anything in them bushes. Be all over them before you could break wind, boy."

"Frog-eaters don't smell like men," his cousin insisted. "They have a boggy stink, like frogs and trees and scummy water. Moss grows under their arms in place of hair, and they can live with nothing to eat but mud and breathe swamp water."

To Walder's surprise, it was Maester Luwin who spoke in agreement. "The histories say the crannogmen grew close to the children of the forest in the days when the greenseers tried to bring the hammer of the waters down upon the Neck. It may be that they have secret knowledge."

"The only children that concern me are the Starks," Theon said, though Walder could tell the maester's words troubled him more than he would have liked. "Back to the stream. Now."

And so they went back to the stream, following the current downriver, with half the men and dogs on one side and half on the other.

There wasn't much hope for the first hour, as they were just going over the tracks that had been left behind the first time they had searched. Walder felt more bored than anything else.

With each step they took, he found himself wondering what tricks had been played on them, and how they had been evaded. Surely the child must have gotten hungry at some point or another, or Myrcella had grown tired and they would have been forced to stop. He could not understand how they had managed to travel so far as they had.

It was only when the sun had set that they finally came to a stop.

"This is fruitless, my lord," Joseth told Theon, saying what they had all been thinking for some time. We will lame a horse, break a leg."

Maester Luwin agreed. "Joseth has the right of it," he said. "Groping through the woods by torchlight will avail us nothing."

Walder guessed Theon was about to tell them there was no other choice, when Reek rode over to him. They spoke quietly, just as they had in the yard, not loud enough for the others to hear. After they exchanged some words, they both dismounted, and Reek showed something to Theon in his pack.

After a moment, Theon turned to the others. "Gelmarr," he called out. "Aggar, Rednose. With us. The rest of you may return to Winterfell with the Hounds. I'll have no further need of them. I know where they're hiding now."

Walder felt confused. Even if the Starks wouldn't have their wolves, they had a knight, with the tricks of the mudmen and the wildling woman too. Four men did not seem to be sufficient to him.

Only Maester Luwin spoke though. "Prince Theon, you will remember your promise? Mercy, you said."

"Mercy was for this morning," Theon said, with none of the frustration in his voice that had been there before. "Before they made me angry."

Riding back to the castle at night was much more difficult. Even with the moon out and bright, in the thick of the wolfswood, Walder felt nervous. He expected to hear the wolves howl at some point when they were riding, but for once, they remained silent.

The first round back, along the edge of the brook, up until they reached the path from where they came, and then they started to return back to the castle.

Walder figured that now they were returning all the way back to the castle, they would be able to better look for where the two trails split, but with it being as dark as it was, he could barely even make out the track they had been following to begin with, let alone a separate one.

As they finally rode back through the Hunter's Gate, he felt exhausted. He was sore between his legs, and his back ached even more.

The castle was asleep, and Greyjoy and his party had not been any sooner in returning to the castle than they had been it seemed.

Once Walder had returned his horse to the stables, he made his way to the great keep and to his bedchamber. After he had undressed, he quickly got into his bed, and fell asleep within minutes.

He woke the next morning to a knock on the door. Whatever he had dreamt of that night, he did not remember, and while he still felt a little sore, it was not as bad as it had been. "Come in," Walder said, not bothering to get up and open the door to see who it was.

The door opened, and it was one of the Ironborn who stepped in again. It was Aggar this time, one of the men who had gone with Theon. "The Prince has ordered your presence, m'lord," he said.

M'lord? None of the Ironborn had addressed him with proper titles before. "Tell him that I'm coming," Walder said. "I need to dress first."

The man didn't acknowledge what he said, only closing the door and leaving.

Walder did not take very long to dress himself again, while he considered whether to find Wylla first before speaking with Greyjoy. He figured it would be better to tell her of his plans before they spoke, and to have her with him too. After he made water, he went to look for Wylla in her bedchamber.

There was no sign of her there, even after he checked around the room to see if she might be hiding from him, unlikely as it was.

It was his second guess that turned out to be correct. He found her praying to the Seven in Lady Catelyn's sept, kneeling before the altar of the Mother. From the red in her eyes, he could tell she had been crying.

"Walder…" she said, her voice breaking as she said his name.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

Wylla didn't seem to know. "S-since you…"

"Agreed to go on the hunt?"

"I… I was praying for them," she said, nodding. "For… for the queen and the princes and princesses…" she brushed away a tear. "Were they found?"

Walder shook his head. "It was dark when Greyjoy ordered us to return to the castle," he said. "There was no trail." He couldn't imagine how Reek would have known where they were hiding, or how Theon could have possibly found them in the dark.

She nodded, and wiped away the rest of the tears on her face. "G-good," she said, a little hopeful.

"Greyjoy wants to see us," he told her. "I spoke to him while we rode about the wedding…"

Wylla looked at him mistrustfully. "Walder… why?" she asked, sounding a mixture of tired and confused. "How could you?"

Walder explained what he had hoped for when they were searching for the Starks. How he could betray Theon when they finally came upon the Starks, and together overpower Theon and his loyal men, capturing Greyjoy and finding Ser Rodrik further south so he could retake the castle. He told her how Theon had asked him what he wanted, and how he had offered Theon to be his loyal Lord of White Harbor if they could wed.

He expected she might be pleased with him when he was done, though she still seemed confused. "Gods," she muttered. "Walder… you… you are a sweet fool."

"We should go." He offered a hand and pulled her back to her feet. "Before Theon gets impatient." Wylla stood in front of him for a moment, and then took his arm. Together, they walked out of the sept.

When they got outside, Walder was confused by what was going on. He spotted a crowd that had gathered in the yard, with a hushed silence. Has Theon summoned the entire castle to the yard again? Walder wondered.

He and Wylla moved closer to them. A few were praying, and he spotted Maester Luwin trying to hide that he was crying, just like how he had found Wylla. They walked into the yard, seeing what the matter was.

Walder found his cousin among the crowd. "What-" he started to ask him, but then he saw it.

Strewn up to the walls were bodies. They had been burned, but he knew at once who they were. A woman, four boys, a girl, and a little babe. The bodies of Myrcella, Bran, Rickon, Melantha, Eddard, Theo and Joanna. Greyjoy had found the Starks, and he had not shown them a drip of mercy.

Next to him, Wylla choked back a sob.

Author Notes:

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Thanks for reading.